Fragile
by Virtually Forgotten
Summary: A collection of kacchako/bakuraka drabbles - Prompt 09: "I just want this" - "He can still taste her on his tongue. The taste of infinity: of the vast, milky universe and the fire of far-flung stars and galaxies that he wanted to explore - that he needed to explore." [rated M for sexual content]
1. Prompt 1: How long has it been?

_A/N: I'm trying to write more kacchako drabbles and I'll try to collect them all here. It's kind of hard to find inspiration but I'll try to challenge a number of drabble prompts. Also, a reviewer from my last fic inspired me to consider writing a bnha multi-chapter fic so I'd like to challenge that sometime soon in the near future (kacchako-centric, of course, because I'm a piece of kacchako trash)._

 _Summary: A collection of kacchako/bakuraka drabbles – Prompt 01: "How long has it been?" – "He is all fire and all brimstone and she thinks to herself that she doesn't mind if she's caught in his hellfire"_

 _Disclaimer: I don't own Boku no Hero Academia, Horikoshi Kohei does. This drabble prompt is not mine each, it was created by myquantumtheory on tumblr._

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~x~

 _Prompt 01: "How long has it been?"_

~x~

* * *

Ochako awakes with a snort, her head shooting up from the table as she tries to focus her dizzy gaze on the surrounding mosaic of blurred shapes around her.

"Sleep well?" A sharp voice – entirely sarcastic and antagonistic – cuts through her drowsiness and despite being half-asleep it didn't take long for her to figure out whom the voice belonged to.

"Bakugou-kun?" She calls out drowsily, blinking in his direction as her vision zoomed in to focus on the angry scowl stretched across his face.

"W-wha…how long has it been?" She asks, quickly wiping away the stream of drool from her chin and looking around for a clock. Bakugou clicks his tongue impatiently and as she rubs at her eyes and turns to look back to him, she realizes that he's glaring pointedly at her from across the table.

"Long enough," he snaps as he pushes his chair back and rises to his feet. "You better be fucking done with your half of the assignment by the time I get back."

"W-wait, what? Where are you going?"

"Dinner!" He calls out, promptly stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sagging pants. He doesn't bother to turn and look back at her as he shuffles down the row of books and disappears from her sight. In that moment, Ochako remembers that she had been paired with Bakugou for their Japanese history research assignment and that they were currently at the school library. Judging from what he had said and the stack of books and papers piled on his side of the table, she reasons that he had already finished his portion of the work while she had barely started her own.

Her lips thin into a small frown. She was disappointed with herself at falling asleep when she had work to do but also knew full well that the all-nighter she had pulled the night before to study for her English final exam was to blame. She wonders why Bakugou hadn't bothered to wake her up but figures that maybe he didn't care enough or was too busy with his own work.

 _I have to pull myself together!_ She chastises herself, slapping her already pink cheeks in an attempt to shake herself awake.

With a nod she sets down to work, cracking open her textbook and notebook. She starts off with gusto; her pencil flying across the page as she begins taking lines and lines of notes but soon enough the fog of drowsiness returns. It swirls through her veins and settles into the marrow of her bones. The names and dates of historical events and figures swim and merge together before her eyes as her mind ebbs and flows between the shores of consciousness and unconsciousness. The flat plane of the table beckons her, inviting her to rest her drowsy head and relent to a few minutes – no, not even, _just a couple seconds_ – of sleep.

 _Yea, a little bit of sleep can't hurt_ , she manages to convince herself as her head slowly drops to the table and her eyelids slide shut.

 _Just a little bit…_

* * *

She jumps awake with a gasp for the second time that day and blearily looks around the library only to notice that it is nighttime and all the other tables are deserted.

"Bakug-."

"I already finished everything," he interrupts roughly, and her shoulders slump at the increased stack of papers on his side. Her eyes swim with bitter tears of disappointment at herself – because she was _not_ this kind of student – and she hurriedly tries to wipe them away before her partner notices.

"Wait…"

 _Too late_ , she realizes.

"Are you fucking _crying_?"

She can't bring herself to answer him and instead, turns to look away.

"Why the fuck are you _crying_?!"

"You should've woken me up," she chokes out, but immediately regrets it. She doesn't mean to blame him – it was her fault after all – but her mind was a churning sea of stress and disappointment and unfortunately he was the only person nearby to take the brunt of it. His gaze softens as he realizes this and lets out a sigh before easing his tone.

"Why would I wake you up when I already know you didn't sleep last night?" He reasons, looking away from her and absent-mindedly flipping through textbook pages.

She blinks in surprise. "W-wha…how did you know?"

He frowns impatiently, clearly not in the mood to explain, and nods his head half-heartedly in the direction of the opposite table.

"I was sitting opposite of you last night," he explains, "you were just too busy to notice me."

"So…the reason you didn't wake me up…?"

He scoffs. "Why would I bother working with someone sleep-deprived. Fuck that shit. It's faster just doing it myself."

Her heart immediately warms at his words – because underneath the curses this was his twisted way of showing that he cared. She can tell he's embarrassed as he suddenly gains a newfound interest in smoothing out each of the creases on the page in front him and ardently works to avoid her gaze. His language was just as sharp and prickly as the blonde spikes of his hair but his actions always betrayed him. He was rage incarnate, all bark and all bite, but as she looks to the tall stack of notes and textbooks she is reminded that that's not all he is.

"Kacchan, thank you!" She gets up from her seat and rushes to his side before throwing her arms around him, "you tsundere, you!" She teases him and his face goes red from his childhood nickname.

"Call me 'Kacchan' one more fucking time!" He threatens, but she giggles as the blush quickly rising in his cheeks takes away from any of the intimidation factor. "I'll fucking end you! And what the shit is a 'chindere'?!"

She laughs at his butchered pronunciation and at the flustered look in his eyes. "Tsun, tsun, tsun," she continues to tease him, poking him in his side and drawing out an aggravated string of curses mixed with pleas to "fucking stop it!".

"Uraraka," his voice is suddenly serious and she stops as he abruptly grips her wrist. She lifts her eyes to meet his and her blush grows at the sharp intensity of his golden eyes and at the proximity of their intermingling breathes. "If you're gonna tease me, then do it fucking right."

Before she could ask him what he means, he's already pulled her down towards him and their lips collide as she melts into his lap. He drinks her in hungrily; their lips parting and crashing back together like frothy waves pounding against a shoreline. She can feel the rising heat of his body against her own and tastes the smoldering embers of passion in the meeting of their lips. He is all fire and all brimstone and she thinks to herself that she doesn't mind if she's caught in his hellfire, as he demands more of her. His heated, greedy lips slide down the milky column of her neck and she grants him more access as she rolls her head back before gasping at the time blinking from the digital clock plastered on the wall.

"1 am?!" She immediately pulls away from Bakugou, who lets out a displeased growl from the loss of physical contact, "just how long has it been?!"

She lets out a surprised squeak as his strong arms wind around her waist but giggles as he leans into her and half-snarls into her ear, "not fucking long enough."

And as he pulls her deeper into his embrace, she can't help but agree.

* * *

 _A/N: Please read and review! I love all constructive criticism! I'm trying to improve the speed at which I write so I can churn our more material but hopefully the quality doesn't suffer as a result. It's an ongoing work in process but any feedback is greatly appreciated!_


	2. Prompt 2: Can I kiss you?

_A/N: Oh my goodness, look at me updating the next day. What is going on here? I want to say thank you to the review for the last chapter! It was very in-depth and really gave me a lot to think and hopefully I'll be able to improve as I keep writing. Perhaps I'm focusing too much on the dere part of Bakugou's tsundere-ness but maybe it's cause I'm a sucker for tsunderes (I'm a piece of trash, I need to stop talking). Please read and review! Constructive criticism gives me life~!_

 _Summary: A collection of kacchako/bakuraka drabbles – Prompt 02: "Can I kiss you?" – "In that moment, with the two of them, chests heaving, blood pounding, and hot breathes intermingling, she suddenly only wanted one thing."_

 _Disclaimer: I don't own Boku no Hero Academia, Horikoshi Kohei does. I also don't own this drabble prompt; it was created by myquantumtheory on tumblr._

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~x~

 _Prompt 02: "Can I kiss you"_

~x~

* * *

"All right, Uraraka," Bakugou cracks his knuckles, a challenging sneer stretching across his face as he steps onto the school gym mat, "the real battle starts now. You and me, hand-to-hand combat, no fucking quirks."

Uraraka jumps uneasily at the challenge. On one hand, she was eager to accept and get more practice to improve her hand-to-hand combat skills. On the other, this was _Bakugou Katsuki_ , and dying a sad, miserable death at the hands of this walking, maniacal, human time bomb was not exactly on her to-do list for the day.

She sighs. This was not the outcome she had in mind when she teasingly used her quirk to bench-press but apparently benching more than him and tauntingly and repeatedly shouting, "fight me!" was enough to ignite his fighting spirit and Ochako knew there was only one way this was going to end.

"Fine, I accept." She shrugs off her windbreaker and throws it to the floor before stepping out of her shoes and onto the mat. The vinyl-covered foam sinks slightly underneath her weight and she runs the soles of her feet over the material, trying to get her bearings as Bakugou cracks his neck eagerly from side to side and flexes his muscles. His expression suddenly turns serious as he steps back into a fighting stance and she responds by stepping back into her own stance, her fists held up protectively in front of her face.

"First one to pin the other down wins," she says and Bakugou grunts his approval.

"Go!"

He wastes no time in springing to action. Instantly, he's flying toward her and Ochako feels her heart leap into her throat at his overpowering fighting aura. She had felt the same intimidation in the face of his fighting prowess at the school sports festival but even in this casual sparring session the self-proclaimed "king of explodo-kills" fought with no bars held.

' _He always starts off with a left swing'_ , she mentally reminds herself in an attempt to calm her raging heart as Bakugou leaps toward her and just as she figured, he pulls back his left arm to prepare for the swing. Immediately she lunges toward him, ready to tackle him and use his own momentum to throw him over her shoulder but a sudden chill giggles down her spine as she sees his previous confident smirk return to his face.

"DON'T THINK I DIDN'T REALIZE YOU'D BE TAKING POINTERS FROM THAT FUCKING NERD!"

He suddenly twists in the air and unleashes a resounding round kick to her left shoulder, sending electrifying white-hot pain racing through her body. She coughs and sputters as the breath is knocked out of her lungs and she's sent flying onto the mat but she has no time to linger on the pain as her opponent leaps into the air and lunges toward her for the second time. She turns on to her back and plants her palms on the mat before springing upwards and slamming the soles of her feet squarely against on his chest. She uses his inertia to kick him backwards and immediately rolls back onto her feet but just as soon as she stands up and turns to face him, he tackles her and sends her sprawling back onto the mat.

Wheezing, she looks up to see his face hovering above her own, their harsh, warm breaths intermingling as they struggle to catch their breath. His sweaty hands tighten their grip on her wrists, signaling the end of their match, and for reasons she can't understand the motion sends her heart pounding against the confines of her ribcage, demanding to be set free.

He scoffs in between shallow breaths, clearly proud of his victory.

"I. win." He stresses, his smirk growing as he leans down closer and immediately she's on fire, her blood turbulent and boiling in her veins as she diverts her eyes away from him and her breath quickens at the sudden thought in her head. In that moment, with the two of them, chests heaving, blood pounding, and hot breathes intermingling, she suddenly only wanted one thing.

"Bakugou-kun," she cautiously whispers his name as if afraid to break this fragile moment, "can…can I…"

She swallows hard before turning her gaze back to him, her eyes searching his for some sign of reciprocation.

"Can I kiss you?"

His expression is completely undecipherable but rather than waiting for the impending rejection, she seizes the initiative and cranes her head upwards, capturing his lips in hers. The kiss is chaste and awkward – the first for both of them – but there is a strange familiarity in the way their lips meld together, like two puzzles pieces fitting together as if this was always meant to be. He doesn't pull away but he doesn't kiss back either and as she breaks away, her cheeks burning increasingly red with embarrassment, she still cannot read the expression on his face.

"Bakug-."

The words die in her throat as he suddenly pulls away and stands to his feet, and the sinking weight of rejection presses on her chest as an icy chill rushes through her veins from the loss of physical contact. As she sits up, she cannot hide the embarrassment from her face and instead turns to look away from his retreating back, the blush burning angrily in her cheeks as she squeezes her watery eyes shut.

"Ice your shoulder," he murmurs as he steps back into his shoes and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, "before that classroom full of idiots start complaining to me."

She lifts a hand to the sore spot on her arm and winces at the stinging pain. She nods in agreement but knew that either way it was definitely going to bruise.

"Well, hurry the fuck up!" He suddenly shouts and she blinks rapidly in confusion. She had expected him to leave on his own but was he…waiting for her? She almost scoffs at the ridiculous idea but as he stands there, hands in his pockets and awkwardly scuffing the soles of his shoe against the ground, she slowly begins to believe that maybe her idea wasn't so crazy.

"Are you…" she trails off, the surprise evident in her voice at what she perceives to be a rare act of kindness, "waiting for me?" She was always blunt and she immediately regrets it as his brows furrow together even further (she didn't even know that was possible) in disgust.

"Do _you_ own an ice pack?" He reasons impatiently and she shakes her head, still too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. "And I forgot my fucking swipe so I need you to get me into the dorm. So stop spewing dumb shit and get off your ass!" He punctuates his tantrum by stomping off and slamming open the gym door to leave and she rushes to her feet and quickly jumps into her shoes before joining him at his side.

They walk together for a bit and just as she reaches into her pocket, searching for her swipe card, her eyes catch a glimpse of his own swipe swinging from the lanyard dangling out from his back pocket. Her earlier embarrassment immediately fades away as she giggles at his transparency and instantly, Bakugou Katsuki, rage incarnate and walking human time bomb, whirls around to glare at her.

"What the fuck are you laughing at?!" She laughs even more at his tantrum and shakes her head, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"Nothing. I was just remembering how I benched more than you."

"The _FUCK_?! You asshat, are you seriously fucking shitting me?! Do you want me to hand your ass to you again cause I'll fucking _do it_!"

"Was' that?" She lets her Osaka accent slip out as Bakugou fumes from beside her, "I can't hear you over my bench press record of INFINITE pounds compared to your 160 pounds."

"URARAKA, YOU SHIT-STAIN!"

She drowns out his ensuing rampage as she laughs and runs away, clamping her hands over ears to block him out. But as he chases after her, cursing and raging and doing everything that made him, him, she thinks back to his swipe card, swinging from his back pocket, and she thinks this is ok. In this time and this moment, with the two of them chasing each other under the sunset sky, this is enough.

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 _A/N: I definitely wrote this a lot faster than I do my other fics so perhaps I'm improving. Not much to say here, this was cute and fluffy, which is always fun. As I mentioned last chapter I want to work on a more serious, adventure-y kacchako multi-chapter fic that will definitely develop their relationship more. It's kind of hard writing these oneshots when they don't really have moments yet and when bnha doesn't really go into romance that much (but honestly, I think that's a good thing. I'm too old for shipping wars) but I guess the fun lies in that challenge! Anyway, please read and review!_


	3. Prompt 3: Should we just stop this?

_A/N: So one review inspired me to try writing something a bit…sexier? Writing it was so embarrassing; I was literally blushing the entire time! Anyway, I also upped the rating of this as a result. But again as a warning to followers of this story or new readers, **this drabble contains sex scenes**. With that said, if you don't mind that, then please read and review! Constructive criticism gives me life!_

 _Summary: A collection of kacchako/bakuraka drabbles – Prompt 03: "Do you ever think we should just stop this?" – "She wants to scream and rage until she is just stardust and starlight, echoes of a love she thought existed but had apparently died many, many years ago."_

 _Disclaimer: I don't own Boku no Hero Academia, Horikoshi Kohei does. I also do not own the drabble prompt, it was created by myquantumtheory on tumblr._

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~x~

 _Prompt 03: "Do you ever think we should just stop this?"_

~x~

* * *

They were just eighteen and it was right before their first time when he asks if can stay the night at her dorm room at Yuuei.

That night, Bakugou had managed to sneak into Ochako's room and everything that followed was a rushed and awkward mess of bumped noses and missed kisses followed by strings of curses and apologies as they helplessly fumbled out of their clothes and rammed into each other in a poor attempt at sex before collapsing together in a heap of sweaty, tangled limbs.

"Well, that was shit," Bakugou finally surmised as he breathed into the hollow of her collarbone and Ochako laughed because _it really was shit_ but even so it was still theirs and it was beautiful.

They were just eighteen and it was right after their first time when she asks him, "do you think this is love?"

He doesn't answer her and a part of her wished that it was precisely because they were both still just eighteen.

* * *

"Do you ever think we should just stop this?" She calls out to him from the perch of his bed as she closes her textbook and rolls onto her stomach to face him properly. They were college students and while they were older and (arguably) wiser not much had changed in the dynamics of their enigmatic relationship except that the sex had considerably improved.

"The fuck does that mean?" Bakugou mumbles absent-mindedly, twirling his pencil between his fingers as he sits hunched over his desk in concentration. There is an ensuing silence broken only by the sound of him flipping pages and of his pencil taking notes and she frowns at his lack of interest before continuing.

"I mean, what is this? Us? This thing that we have?"

This time, her bluntness seems to get his attention as his shoulders tense and he whirls around to face her.

"It's enough," he grunts with a shrug, awkwardly ruffling the blonde spikes of his hair before shoving his hands into his pockets (his habit for when he was nervous or uncomfortable). She's still unappeased so he curses and rolls his chair towards her before planting a kiss on her lips. His kiss is sweet and saccharine, like cotton candy that melts on the tip of the tongue, but it is also devoid of any meaning and as he parts and rolls back to his desk she is still left feeling empty and hollow with only the same unanswered questions rattling in her brain.

* * *

"Fuck!" Bakugou curses as Ochako dabs a swab full of rubbing alcohol against the shallow gash on his shoulder.

"Sorry," she stops and frowns apologetically as he hisses in pain, "this is going to hurt a little bit."

"Yea, no fucking _shit_!" He winches again as she continues cleaning his wounds and her eyes continue to reflect her worry.

"You shouldn't have tried chasing down that villain without back-up," she reasons as she pulls out the band-aid and he scoffs at her comment.

"Uraraka, we're pros now and I've told you before, pros fucking _win_. I'm not gonna wait for some shitty-ass back-up to come in and fuck up my operation and anyway," he sighs as he sees the worry still shimmering in her eyes and he decides to ease his tone slightly.

"And anyway," he grumbles, "I'm fine." She lifts her gaze to meet his and she relaxes before plastering the band aid over the gash.

"I just worry about you," she murmurs, her cheeks brightening pink at her honest confession, before he lifts his hands to envelope hers and stops her in her tracks.

"Don't," he mutters as his intense, golden gaze pours into her eyes, "me and you, we're _strong_. There's no villain out there that can fuck with us."

He's entirely serious but she giggles at his choice of words. She laces her fingers with his and gently lays her head against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his beating heart.

"You're right," she nods before smiling teasingly, "but technically, I'm stronger than you since—."

"Don't," he interrupts her, "don't even start that shit." Smirking, he cranes his head downward and growls his warning against her lips. Her laughter is silenced as he softly captures her lips in his and before long, their superhero gear is left scattered and forgotten on the ground as they sway and teeter together before collapsing into his bed.

Ochako knew that when they got intimate, Bakugou had a tendency to become uncharacteristically obedient. As his hands would curiously roam and explore the valleys and hills of her body she would breathe into his ear, "kiss me" and he would always oblige. His lips would find hers and, contrary to everything that he is, his kisses were not fireworks and fanfare. They were not bursts of explosions, full of burning sulphur and nitroglycerin, but rather they were like morning dewdrops, tender and pure as they settled on the rose petals of her lips. They were slow, languid and teasing; each one a story – a promise that he never puts into words. But she is the fool that always believes them – _his silent "I love you's"_ – and hungers and thirsts for more.

"Touch me," she groans when she can no longer stand the molten pool of desire churning in the pit of her stomach and again, he is swift to obey. His lips leave a trail of shivering goosebumps in their wake as he relishes the silk of her skin – from the milky column of her neck shaking with her shallow breathes down to her stomach, which tightens with red-hot anticipation. His fingers find their way inside of her and they eagerly pump and piston in and out as his tongue joins and laps her in and she's no longer asking but begging; begging and pleading for more and more in between her breathy, rising cries of, " _I love you. I love you. I love you so much, Katsuki. I love you so much_."

And even when they finish, even when they are left sweaty and gasping in the glowing aftermath, he still manages to cast her under his spell as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her tight against his naked chest. She reasons that his embrace must be witchcraft because she is willing to fall for his magic every time. But tonight, as they lie in their naked embrace, she wishes for something real, something certain.

"Tell me you love me."

This is her final request and his silence is her final answer

* * *

"We should stop this."

She's standing in his front porch, shivering and drenched in the torrential downpour, but her expression is steely and hard; determination etched in the lines of her face. She's soaked to the marrow of her bones and all he can manage to ask after he snaps out of his stupor is, "what the fuck are you doing in the middle of this shit storm?!". He reaches to pull her inside but she snatches her arm away.

"Don't!" She shrieks, reeling back as if his very touch was fire ( _And it was. His every touch was hellfire that always pulled her back into his sin_ ) and immediately he pulls his hand back, the surprise evident in his golden eyes. She struggles to catch her breath as the rain pounds on her heaving shoulders but she straightens herself and turns her gaze back to him.

"I said," her voice cracks into a whisper and in this moment she's thankful to the rain for camouflaging her tears, "we should stop this."

But her mind is a buzzing hive of thoughts, all hoping and wishing and praying that he would see through her bluff. Wishing that he could see that she wanted nothing more than for him to shout or scream or beg or plead or do something – _anything_ – that would show her that they were real, that what they shared was love or at least something akin to that and that their gossamer thread of memories – from high school to college to their adulthood – meant something to him too.

"Fine."

This is his answer. It's simple and clean and all she needs to hear.

"Fine," she responds immediately but her voice is not her own. She thinks it must belong to someone else – a stranger – because inside, she is nothing. She does not exist. Her insides have been scooped out and emptied until only the memories of their yesterday's and yesteryear's were left to rattle in the hollow cavity of her chest. Her voice whistles through empty spaces; traces of where he had touched her, where he had _burned_ her.

"Fine," he repeats one last time and she thinks it's just like him to land the final blow. He seems to hesitate as his eyes linger on her for too long but soon the hinges of his door cry out as he closes the door in her face and by the time it clicks shut and the locks click into place, she's already gone. In heart-stopping, dizzying and breathless delirium, she runs frantically into the yawning darkness. She can barely make out what's ahead of her but this doesn't stop her as she increases her pace, arms pumping and feet pounding on the wet pavement as the rain slams against her face.

With each step, she wants to take off and hurl herself into the midnight sky. She wants to launch herself outside of the earth's orbit and go to a place where neither the pull of earth's gravity or the pull of her love for him could bring her back down. She wants to scream and rage all of her frustrations into the silent, black vacuum of space – " _Do you love me?! Did you ever love me?!"_ – until there is nothing left inside of her. Until she is just stardust and starlight, echoes of a love she thought existed but had apparently died many, many years ago.

She lets out a cry as her foot catches on raised pavement and she tumbles to the wet ground, the taste of blood immediately swirling in her mouth and bringing her back to reality. She runs her hands over the smooth plane of her stomach, her face crumpling as she lets out a choked sob and is again confronted with the broken glass pieces of her reality.

"I'm sorry," she finally whispers, as she looks downward to her hands that are splayed over her stomach, "I'm so sorry."

Rain falls, lightening flashes, and thunder rolls as she mourns and grieves and aches for the past that they wasted and the future they could have had.

* * *

 _A/N: **blushes furiously!** Also, remember to please read and review!_


	4. Prompt 4: Come home with me

_A/N: So this is the fourth prompt I received from an anon on tumblr. I realized later that "come home with me" could be taken in a…dirtier sense but I interpreted it as, like, "come live with me" so I just wanted to clear that up. Also, I just want to clarify that these drabbles are not interconnected in anyway. Each one is a separate, standalone prompt. So while the last prompt was pretty miserable, don't worry! I still believe in their happy ending! :D Also, please remember to read and review!_

 _Summary: A collection of kacchako/bakuraka drabbles – Prompt 04: "Come home with me" – "Do you want me to say that every day I wonder if you slept well, I wonder if you ate well, I wonder how your day goes and I wonder when the next time we'll meet will be so you can tell me?"_

 _Disclaimer: I don't own Boku no Hero Academia, Horikoshi Kohei does. I also do not own this drabble prompt, it was created by myquantumtheory on tumblr._

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~x~

 _Prompt 04: "Come home with me"_

~x~

* * *

"That's 4!" Ochako cheers after tossing a stone across the pond and counting it skip four times before watching it sink. Bakugou scoffs, clearly unimpressed as he scoops up a rock of his own and confidently rolls it in his palm.

"Watch and fucking learn," he teases with a smirk before winding his arm back and then pitching the rock forward. It whizzes straight into the water without so much as a splash or a skip and he freezes in shock at the lackluster result.

Ochako tries her best to stifle her laughter as she turns away and hides her growing smile behind her hand.

"So..." she chuckles, "…one?"

"FUCK THAT SHIT," he explodes, hurriedly scooping a bunch more rocks into his arms as he prepares for the real battle, "LET'S GO, URARAKA. WE'RE NOT FUCKING LEAVING UNTIL I PROVE I'M THE BEST AT THIS SHIT!"

"Ok!" Ochako pumps her fist into the air, fired up at the challenge, "but I won't go easy on you!"

After they had finished their college classes for the day, the two of them had decided to take a more scenic route on their way home but she would've never figured that this new path would lead to a stone-skipping competition. What follows is a string of curses as Bakugou sends stone after stone sinking into the water and it takes Ochako all she has not to fall on her knees in a fit of guffaws. Minutes bleed into hours as the sun begins to sink behind the horizon and Bakugou gradually improves from two skips to three skips until he beats her record with a whooping total of seven skips.

"And _that's_ why I'm the best," he boasts with a confident smirk and Ochako rolls her eyes, eager to remind him that it had taken him most of the afternoon and evening to get that record.

"I wouldn't go that far," she teases as the two of them finally relax and sit by the stream bank. They lean into each other, his arm wrapped casually around her waist as she rests her head on his shoulder and watches the canvas of the sky change from sunset streaks of blushing pink and glowing red to the deep-sea blue of the night sky. They sit in a comfortable and much welcomed silence before Bakugou shifts awkwardly, rousing Ochako to sit up and look at him questioningly.

"Come," his voice dies as the words catch in his throat before he continues, "come…home with me."

His request is gruff and he completely avoids her gaze as he looks in the opposite direction but he can feel her shoulders stiffen against his before relaxing again.

"Why?"

He whirls his head to look at her and blinks rapidly in confusion at her question. Why? Did he need to give an explanation? They'd been together for years and was this not the natural progression for this sort of thing? What other reason did she need besides: ' _well, that's just kinda how this whole relationship thing works_ '.

"I…mean…" He's at a loss for words and Bakugou Katsuki was never at a loss for words. His vocabulary may be limited to curses and arrogant comments, but he was _never_ at a loss for words. But she always managed to do this to him: leave him tongue-tied and tripping over himself like a bumbling, love struck idiot.

"I mean," he finally finds his voice, "do I need a damn reason?"

"It'd be nice."

"The _fuck_? Uraraka, this is seriously a yes or no quest—."

The words die in his throat again as she stands up and walks away from him.

"I don't think it's just a yes or no question," she counters, her voice soft and small as she bends over to pick up a stone. She caresses the surface of the rock, measuring out its smoothness, before chucking it and watching it hop and skip across the pond before finally sinking. "I think," her gaze grows distant as the night breeze rustles the locks of her chestnut brown hair, "I think it's a lot more than that…"

"Well, what the fuck do you want me to say?!" He can't help the blush rising in his cheeks and painting the corners of his ears. The rush of blood roars in his ear and he suddenly develops a terrible case of tunnel vision, as she is the only thing he can see.

"Do you want me to say that I miss you whenever we're apart," his voice is loud and teetering on the edge of cracking, "and that I always want you by my side? Is that fucking it? Cause I _definitely_ won't say sappy movie shit like that!"

She turns to look at him, slightly surprised, and her doe-eyed gaze rocks him to his very core. He loved her so much that it confused and terrified him at the same time. Him, the fucking king of explodo-kills, was afraid of loving her too much and too recklessly. He clenched and unclenched his fists anxiously, fearful of his honest thoughts that were bubbling to the surface.

"Or do you want me to say that every morning when I wake up, I wonder how you woke up?" He continues, as she looks to him in silent wonder. "Do you want me to say that every day I wonder if you slept well, I wonder if you ate well, I wonder how your day goes and I wonder when the next time we'll meet will be so you can tell me? Is that what you want me to say cause I fuckin swear Uraraka you're bullshitting yourself if you think I'd ever say that kind of shit! Ok?! A-and…why are you laughing? Uraraka, I'm _fucking serious_!"

She runs back to him and falls into his arms in a fit of laughter, happy tears springing in the corner of her eyes. Her giggles ring like wind chimes rustling in a spring breeze, trilling bright and clear.

"Do you really think that?" She smiles into his chest as she wraps her arms around him and squeezes him tight, "do you really mean that, Bakugou-kun?"

"What?! No! I definitely said—!" But he stops and releases a heavy sigh as he feels a tiny white flag go up inside of him, ordering surrender and signaling defeat. His pride was strong but it couldn't compete with the happy blush on her cheeks and the way her eyes twinkled and shone as she looked up at him.

"I think," his voice finally steadies itself as he calms the storm of emotions raging inside of him. He pulls her closer to him and dips his face into the crook of her neck, letting her scent wash over him. "I think that I _if_ I ever did say those disgusting ass things then what I would mean is, I don't want to wonder about that shit anymore. I want to _know_."

"That's such a roundabout way of saying you love me," she teases as she ruffles his blonde spikes of hair and he scoffs and looks away from her, clearly embarrassed.

"Shut up."

She laughs some more, and the smile she beams at him reminds him that he's one lucky bastard – despite how rarely he told her so. He doesn't know if what they are is destiny or coincidence but he also doesn't give two shits because either way he wasn't letting go of what they had.

"Ok," she whispers as her hand slides down and grabs hold of his, "let's go home then."

And his only wish as she gives his hand a reassuring squeeze is to hear her say those words again and again for all the days to come.

* * *

 _A/N: So, yea, that was super fluffy, haha. This was kind of hard to write after coming from the intensity of the last prompt. I think perhaps recently I'm in the mood to write more angsty things and while I love fluff, I think this piece ended up being a bit generic and uninspiring as a result of trying to be fluffy. Of course, I would love to hear any feedback from readers, as well! So, please remember to read and review, I love all constructive criticism!_


	5. Prompt 5: I took a pregnancy test

_A/N: Another drabble prompt from an anon on tumblr. I still have a lot of drabble requests to go through (like, eight, omg) so um…expect a lot! I also do plan on making a companion oneshot to chapter 3 but from Bakugou's perspective! I think it'd be really interesting to show how he felt. I feel like I had something else to say but…I can't remember. Also as always, please remember to read and review! I'm so grateful for all of your reviews and I know there's some I haven't answered yet but I will be sure to do that so that I can convey my thanks!_

 _Summary: A collection of kacchako/bakuraka drabbles – Prompt 05: "I took a pregnancy test" – "It is in the silence that he is the loudest."_

 _Disclaimer: I don't own Boku no Hero Academia, Horikoshi Kohei does. I also do not own this drabble prompt; it was created by myquantumtheory on tumblr._

* * *

~x~

 _Prompt 05: "I took a pregnancy test."_

~x~

* * *

The even, staccato tick tock of the wall clock is nearly maddening as Ochako anxiously counts the seconds before Bakugou would get home. She drums her fingers on the hardwood surface of the dining table, chewing nervously at her bottom lip and casting frequent glances to the seemingly still hands of the clock as she wondered _just how long had it been_?

She had made dinner – his favorite spicy beef curry – and had set out both their plates. Now it was only a matter of waiting but even then, she waits with bated, anxious breath for the sounds of her husband coming home.

The stillness is broken and Ochako jumps at the familiar sound of his keys jangling in the keyhole followed by the click of the opening lock and the whoosh of the door as it swings open.

" _Fuck_ , I worked with some of the _dumbest_ shits today!" Bakugou declares angrily in his characteristic, colorful language as he kicks the door open and bursts inside. "These shit-for-brains new sidekicks had gas-type quirks and for some dumb ass reason thought that would work with _me –_ fucking _me!_ What kind of shitty ass strategist—," he punctuates his rant by throwing his duffle bag full of equipment to the floor and kicking off his shoes, "—thinks that a gaseous quirk is a good idea to pair with a quirk like mine? Dumb shits, I should've murdered them for being so fucking—"

He trails off as he rounds the corner and encounters Ochako sitting stiffly in her seat, looking at him in wide-eyed apprehension. On any other day she would've eagerly listened to her husband's rant about work but today was not like any other day and so she clears her throat before gesturing to the plate of spicy curry she had set out for him.

"I…uh," she struggles to find her voice, "I…made dinner…"

Bakugou was no fool. He could piece two and two together and see that the moment he sat down in that chair he was in for a serious conversation, whether he liked it or not. And he was already leaning toward not liking it.

"Fine," he grumbles reluctantly as he turns away, "but I'm going to shower first."

"How about—!" She shoots up from her seat to stop him but is surprised at the unintended strength in her voice and coughs awkwardly before continuing. "How…about you eat first, instead?"

There is an unspoken " _please_?" at the end of her sentence and Bakugou lets out another rough sigh before walking over and plopping into the seat opposite of her. Ochako sits back down and watches wordlessly as he takes his spoon and starts shoveling food into his mouth but notices the purposeful way he ducks his head to avoid eye contact. It was said that communication was the cornerstone of any successful relationship but words, feelings and communication were just never his forte. He was a man of action, a man of doing rather than saying, but today he'd have to suck it up because she had a lot to say and communicate.

She wrings her hands anxiously, afraid of the words stuck in her throat and of his reaction, but gathers up her courage as she takes in a deep breath before speaking.

"I took a pregnancy test," she admits and he lets out a muffled cough, food flying back into his plate as he chokes on her words. She pushes a glass of water towards him and he swipes it out of her hands before taking one, two, three, _four_ desperate swigs of it and placing the empty glass back down.

"And?" His voice is even but he's still avoiding her gaze and her heart leaps into her throat because she doesn't know what to make of his reaction. Did he care? Did he not care? Did he understand the weight of her words? Was he just trying to hold himself together? She takes another deep breath and figures there's only one way to find out.

"It…it was…positive."

Her words strike like lightning and the sudden screech in his movements – the slow lift of his wide-eyed gaze to meet hers – is the delayed thunderclap. They can both feel it in that moment – in the pregnant silence – the seismic shift in their lives, the rocking turbulence that stretches the yawning chasm between their old life and a new one. In that moment, there were no longer two people in the room but three. Three people, three lives, three realities suddenly woven together into the tapestry called "family".

She shifts awkwardly underneath his gaze and his ensuing silence does nothing to calm her nerves. She doesn't expect him to jump out of his seat, sweep her off her feet and twirl her around in joy, but she hopes that this is at least good news to him. She hopes, as she tugs awkwardly at the ends of her sleeves, that this is at least a welcomed surprise.

"We'll…have to get a bigger place, then," she jumps in surprise as he breaks the silence and she nods dumbly in agreement, although this is not the response she expects.

The silence returns but slowly, he begins to pull himself back together. He leans back into his seat, the focus returning to his eyes as reality steadily sinks in.

"Somewhere bigger than this tiny ass studio," he continues, "and I'll have to read up on all this baby shit."

"I'll have to schedule a visit with an ob/gyn," she adds as they start piecing together the details, "and we'll both have to let our offices know."

"Fuck," he frowns and curses, clearly annoyed with the latter fact, "I don't want to let any of the dumb fucks at the office know about our business." He spoons a mouthful of food into his mouth, chews and swallows before continuing, "we'll definitely teach our kid to be smarter than them – than _anyone_."

"We'll teach them a lot," she gushes, her excitement picking up as the pinks of her cheeks brighten, "we'll teach them how to help others, how to use their quirk—."

"We'll teach them how to fight!" Bakugou smirks approvingly at the idea, "how to be _strong_!"

"—but also that what's important in life is doing your best," Ochako interjects with a grin.

"—is to _be_ the best!" He interrupts.

"—is to be kind to others—"

"—to be _better_ than others!"

They both pause and stare at each other in silence before Ochako lets out a laugh at their mismatched answers. He ducks his head to hide his grin behind the tufts of his ash blonde hair as her bright laughter clears the air of the previous tension. The relief is almost palpable. As her laughter dies, they both relax, staring into each other's eyes in mutual, silent understanding of the reality they faced, of the responsibility that awaited them.

"Do you think we'll be good parents?" She asks softly, one hand settling atop of her stomach.

"What kind of question is that? We'll be the _best_ parents," he answers matter-of-factly and she is relieved by the complete confidence in his voice.

"I wonder if it's a girl," she contemplates curiously, her eyes now twinkling bright with anticipation, "what would we name her?"

"Katsuko," he answers and her face crumples in distaste at the old-fashioned name.

"Ok, and what if it's a boy?"

"Katsumaru."

"Kacchan," she teases him with his nickname and he glares in displeasure, "get back to me when you have a better idea."

"Are you shitting me? What's wrong with Katsumaru?"

"Everything," she counters before letting out a gasp as an idea comes to her. "Izuku! What if we name the baby after Deku-kun?"

"Don't even fucking joke like that," Bakugou snaps, "it'll be a cold ass day in hell before I name my kid after that fucking nerd."

"Deku-kun," she corrects him and he mumbles a soft, "whatever" before crossing his arms and swiftly looking away. She doesn't understand it but while Bakugou and Midoriya's relationship had _somewhat_ improved since their high school days, one mention of Midoriya was enough to turn Bakugou into a grumpy five year old.

"So," she starts slowly, "you're…happy with the news?"

She's not surprised when he doesn't answer and instead turns his attention back to his dinner. Verbalizing how he truly felt was just not a part of who he was. But surprisingly his touch, in all of its infinite meanings, manages to give her the answers she needs. His rough hands, callused by fire and nitroglycerin, quietly reach across the table and clasp hers. His fingers intertwine with hers and his fingertips sear burning promises onto her skin. She feels hot, happy tears well up in the corner of her eyes because it is in the silence that he is the loudest. His touch screams and his caress shouts, ' _I'm happy, I'm happy, I'm happy_.'

She thinks to wish for more would be a sin.

* * *

Later that night, Bakugou rolls over in bed to face his wife and prods her awake.

"Ok," he starts, "but what about Katsunosuke?"

"Kacchan," she groans, half-asleep, "…just stop."

* * *

 _A/N: I tried for some humor this time. I was pretty pleased with it but I hope that the characterizations were ok. I still have a hard time really grasping them, especially since they're growing so much in the manga (especially my favorite problematic baby boy). Speaking of the manga, Ochako has such an intense case of the love bug, which has been really cute to see. Also, please read and review!_


	6. Prompt 6: You can't protect me

_A/N: It was kind of hard writing this but overall I'm pretty content with it. I feel like this is the most in character I've written for Bakugou? But I could be wrong? Not really sure, but anyway, please make sure to read and review! I'm always very grateful for the time everyone takes to review and reading your impressions always makes me happy!_

 _Summary: A collection of kacchako/bakuraka drabbles – Prompt 06: "You can't protect me" – "The reds of his eyes are the same. They yearn for blood. They yearn to fight and to win and that's just what he's going to do."_

 _Disclaimer: I do not own Boku no Hero Academia, Horikoshi Kohei does. I also do not own this drabble prompt, it was created by myquantumtheory on tumblr._

* * *

~x~

 _Prompt 06: "You can't protect me"_

~x~

* * *

Over and under and around—wait…no—under and over and…under again—no, _fuck_! Bakugou heaves a low snarl as he angrily undoes his tie and glares at his red-faced reflection in the mirror. His reflection glares back, eyebrows furrowed and lips curled in an angry scowl as he crushes the material of the tie in his clenched, shaking fists.

"Here," Ochako offers with a small smile as she approaches him from behind and holds out her hand. The sight of his wife deflates his anger but he hesitates, unwilling to admit defeat, but finally relents with a sigh and slides the tie into her open hand.

She steps closer as he turns to face her and she pops the collar of his dress shirt before winding the tie around his neck and setting to work. He rakes his eyes over her smaller frame and watches as she licks her pink lips and tucks a strand of her short, chestnut brown hair behind her ear in concentration. Her nimble fingers work their magic as she loops and weaves the flimsy material of the tie in various formations and he notices that she is also careful not to touch it with all of her fingers.

"You shouldn't have to do this," her quiet voice shatters the silence and he can see the pain reflected in the windows of her eyes, "you did nothing wrong. If anything _they_ should be the ones apologizing. The government, they tricked you! They're the ones—! "

She stops as his rough, calloused hands settle on hers. Her eyes lift up to meet his gaze and she notices that there is still a fire burning in his red eyes, an unyielding desire to fight. He doesn't say anything but his touch tells her that that's enough, that it doesn't matter whose fault it was. He would fight until the end.

Her eyes shine with unshed tears and her eyelashes flutter to hold them back. She lets the material of the tie slip between her fingers as she rests her forehead against his chest and wraps her arms tightly around his torso.

"I just don't want them to look at you like that. Like you're a monster." Her voice is broken and tearful. "I just want to protect you."

In that moment, as he silently winds his arm around her in response, he is reminded of why he loves her. He is reminded of the girl from his high school days: of the girl who commanded meteor showers, of the girl who danced on air. Gravity, science, physics, logic; none of it applied to her. The earth, the moon, the stars, and the sun, they all revolved around her and not the other way around. And then he thinks of the woman – his wife – who unraveled like twine at his touch, who wrapped herself around him and reminded him that not all fire burned. He is reminded of the woman who made a hearth of his inferno, who saw his wreckage and destruction and called it home. And he knows she is strong – _she is forged of iron, not porcelain_ – not just for herself but for the both of them. But not today. Today he'd be the one to carry the burden for the both of them.

"You can't," is his quiet reply, "you can't protect me."

He feels her tense against him. She is reluctant to let go and so is he but he knows he must. He is the first to pull away but her hands hold firm to material of his dress shirt in protest.

"Ochako," he starts. He is neither annoyed nor angry but there is firmness in his voice and she knows her husband well enough to know that once he's made up his mind then heaven help the poor soul that tried stopping him. So she lets out a sigh before letting her hands fall to her side.

"Ok," she relents, lifting her head to shoot him a teary-eyed smile, "ok then."

The silence returns as she backs away and goes to fetch his suit jacket. He watches her retreating back before he turns to face his reflection in the body-length mirror. He tightens and slides the tie knot up to his collar before pressing his collar back down.

"Here."

He turns at Ochako's approaching voice and she gives him another sad smile as she holds up his suit jacket; his armor for the approaching fight. He takes it with a quick word of thanks and the hem flares around him as he quickly throws it on. Again he looks at his reflection as he fastens each button. He had aged since his high school days and the contours of his face had hardened with the years but the reds of his eyes are the same. They yearn for blood. They yearn to fight and to win and that's just what he's going to do.

"You look nice," she comments and he has to admit he does. He is dressed from head to toe in a midnight black suit paired with a matching tie and if he didn't know better it looked like he was going to a simple evening party. But he did know better. He knew where he was going was no party but instead his public execution.

"I support you no matter what," he hears her blurt out from beside him and he turns to see that the tears had managed to escape and coast down the slope of her red cheeks. "I don't care what anyone says! I love you more than any—!"

His lips silence her and at first she is surprised before she relaxes against him. He pulls her flush against his body, one arm wrapped around the curve of her waist as he feels the timpani of her heartbeat match his. He tastes the salt of her tears – the tears she sheds for him. His tongue teases the seam of her lips and when she grants him access, their tongues dance and twirl as he savors the sweet honey of her kiss. He feels her hum hungrily against his lips, her fingers clenching the material of his suit desperately and something red-hot and sinful churns inside of him and he knows he must stop. Breathlessly, he pulls away and he feels her fingertips trace the line of his jaw as her lips continue to brush the column of his neck.

"I've gotta go take care of these fuckers," he mutters and she murmurs a soft "I know" against his neck before dropping her hands and stepping back. She looks to him with tears and worry in her eyes but her gentle smile reassures him that she believes in him. And that's all he needs. That's all he needs to win.

He heads for the front door and steps into his dress shoes before placing his hand on the doorknob. The hollow click of the opening lock and the whine of the door as he pulls it open signals his funeral march.

Immediately, he squints his eyes as he is greeted by the burning sunlight and is swallowed in a harsh sea of bright camera flashes and a chorus of shutter clicks as he takes the decisive step outside. The onslaught of sounds and voices continue to disorient him as he tries to blink his blurry eyes into focus and soon he can make out the crowd of cameraman, reporters, journalists and other interested parties bustling in front of his doorstep.

"Bakugou-san!" "Bakugou-san!" "Bakugou-san!"

It's the sound of hell and oddly enough, it's also the sound of his name.

"Do you have any comments on the recent allegations against you?"

"Bakugou-san, recent reports have stated that infamous villain, Cacophony, is now in a chemically induced coma and is unlikely to regain consciousness. Your comment?"

"Bakugou-san, is it true that your personal grudge against Cacophony is what led you to such extreme actions? Do you think you were right in your actions? Do you still think your actions were _heroic_?"

"Are allegations that you _tortured_ him true? Did you intend to _kill_ him, Bakugou-san?"

"There are some people demanding for the revocation of your hero license! A majority of the public think that your actions make you no better than a villain! Your comments, Bakugou-san!"

"Bakugou-san!"

"Bakugou-san!"

He thinks that his own name sounds like a curse as his insides twist and churn with vibrating turbulence. His eyes sweep over the sea of reporters and journalists and he notes the hunger in their eyes, their desperation for the latest scoop as they thrust their pens and notebooks and cameras in his face. They are thirsty for blood, poised to devour him as their gnash their teeth and clamour for a comment – any comment –and the crowd morphs right before his eyes to something inhuman until all he sees is fire, hellfire.

He seethes silently, fists clenched at his side as the rage kindles inside of him, sending heated embers sailing through his veins and smoke curling in his lungs. A part of him – the _somewhat_ rational part of him – considers bowing his head in apology for the sake of the people and family he loved and wanted to protect, but the thought of bowing to these shitbag journalists makes him want to vomit in his mouth.

Fuck it then, he thinks. The only way he knew to fight fire is with fire.

And so Bakugou Katsuki – _rage incarnate, all bark and all bite, and all sound and all fury_ – hoists the nearest mic closer to his face as his crimson eyes flash with his unhinged temper. His teeth look more akin to fangs as his lips pull back into a haughty sneer and he glares into the nearest camera.

"I'm a fucking hero!" He declares confidently, his free hand clenching tightly into a fist, "the fucking _best_ and all I did was win against a villain who thought he could measure up to me! And that's what I'll _keep_ on doing."

He points a decisive finger at the camera and the crowd recoils in both shock and fear.

"So mark my words," he continues. "I'll _keep_ on winning! And if anyone's got a fucking problem with that or if any shit faced fucker wants to stop me from being a hero," he bends his finger in invitation, his sneer growing, "then let them fucking come!"

The cameraman lets out a terrified squeak as Bakugou drops the mic with a huff and the crowd is shell-shocked into silence at the unabashed display of his confidence. He loosens his ties and stuffs his hands into his pockets, content that a heavy load had finally been lifted from his chest. He casts another haughty glance at the crowd.

"So I won't say it again. Hurry up and _fuck off_."

He turns on his heel, a smirk growing on his face as the crowd erupts with sounds of indignation, protest, and cries for more comments; none of which he will grant them.

He doesn't owe them a damn thing.

* * *

 _A/N: So, good? Bad? Overall, I enjoyed writing this. I was torn between having him bow to the press (you know, for the sake of protecting those he cares about) and having him rebel but immediately, I knew the only option for Bakugou was to be rebel and to rebel as loudly as possible, haha. Whether he was right or wrong, I guess I'll leave that to you guys to decide. Anyway, again, please remember to read and review! I'll be posting another prompt very soon, as well (like, in a few hours)._


	7. Prompt 7: Have you ever?

_A/N: So when I started this whole kacchako drabble thing my intention was to write just that: drabbles. But I have a bad habit of…overwriting, I guess…and they all ended up being oneshots rather than drabbles. So this prompt was an attempt to get back to what I was trying to practice, which is writing short but_ _succinct_ _pieces. Hopefully that worked out here but I have no idea, haha. As always, please remember to read and review! I love hearing everyone's opinions!_

 _Summary: A compliation of kacchako/bakuraka drabbles – Prompt 07: "Have you ever wanted to hate someone?" – "The chill of the winter wind carries the scent of the rain and the smell of burning incense and the salt of her tears."_

 _Disclaimer: I do not own Boku no Hero Academia, Horikoshi Kohei does. I also not own this drabble prompt, it was created by myquantumtheory on tumblr._

* * *

~x~

 _Prompt 07: "Have you ever wanted to hate someone?"_

~x~

* * *

"Have you ever wanted to hate someone, Bakugou-kun?"

Her voice comes out thin and flimsy – barely above a whisper – and he looks away because he can't bear to see her like this. The chill of the winter wind carries the scent of the rain and the smell of burning incense and the salt of her tears. It fills his fragile lungs with each slow breath – _in and out, in and out_ – as he tries to compose himself for her; tries to refrain from raging or lashing out at the unfairness of the world.

He wants to tell her that aside from her and (sometimes) his parents, he hated most everybody he came into contact with. He hated people who looked down on him. He hated people who dared to cross his path. He hated weak people and cowards and slackers and whiners. But most of all he hated the son of a bitch who had done this to her. He hated the shitstain that had the gall to tear apart Ochako's entire world and every bone in Bakugou's body ached to find the villain and pay him back in kind. He wanted to find the motherfucker and break him and tear him and rip him apart; to make him bleed the same way his wife was bleeding in front of him right now.

But he wouldn't dare say that, not out loud and not right now. No matter how much her heart was breaking, vengeance would never sit right with her and so he clenches his fists and murmurs a soft "yea" in response to her question. She nods in understanding.

"Me too," her tear-filled voice breaks with each word and he feels his heart sink as she falls to her knees and into the muddy earth. The smoky tendrils of incense surround her, encasing her in a blurry haze of tragedy and despair. She reaches for the two tombstones before her, fingers shaking and shoulders trembling with wet sobs.

"The one I hate. It's me," she chokes through streams of tears raining down her red cheeks. She cannot lift her head but she doesn't have to. Her fingertips shakily trace the Japanese names carved on the granite tombstones; a name that belonged to her since birth, names of two people who she loved more than life itself.

 _Uraraka._

The wind picks up and he smells it again: the burn of incense, the salt of her tears, the perfume of rain, and the deep, murky scent of freshly dug earth.

He squeezes his eyes shut. It is unendurable and too painful to bear as she whispers again, "I hate myself."

* * *

 _A/N: Oh man, that was so short, haha. Hopefully it wasn't too cliché of an idea. I'm still planning out my kacchako multi-chapter fic as well. Multi-chapter fics are so hard, there are so many things to consider and I really want to write an interesting story so it's taking a while to plan out but hopefully I'll be able to post that up sometime soon! Also, remember to read and review!_


	8. Prompt 8: You don't need to protect me

_A/N: Oh man, it's been a while since I updated here on ffnet. I actually wrote this a while ago along with a whole bunch of other drabbles and oneshots on my tumblr but I'm unsure if I should just throw them all here or if that's just going to lead to a huge mess. But again, this is where I'm supposed to collect all my oneshots/drabbles so maybe I should just upload them here…I dunno. But anyway, this drabble was pretty experimental, I wanted to try a different style. Not sure if it worked out but let me know your thoughts! Please read and review!_

 _Summary:_ _A collection of kacchako/bakuraka drabbles - Prompt 08: "You don't need to protect me" - "He howls for the little boy he was...he wails for the young man he is...and he roars for the beast he will become."_

 _Disclaimer: I do not own Boku no Hero Academia, Horikoshi Kohei does. I also not own this drabble prompt, it was created by myquantumtheory on tumblr._

* * *

~x~

 _Prompt 08: "You don't need to protect me"_

~x~

* * *

Bakugou and Ochako forge through muddy water, past the scattered rubble and wreckage of collapsed buildings as they search for any sign of 'survivors'; the goal for their natural disaster simulation. Periodic controlled aftershocks heighten the sense of reality, sending the duo flying into the water as the earth rocked and trembled underneath them.

With each passing second, Bakugou's limited patience quickly wears thin but not because of the aftershocks. Instead, it was because with each tremor Ochako would constantly fling herself around him and levitate away any falling rubble, managing to protect him from harm but also increasingly piss him off to no end.

The final straw comes when she suddenly calls out his name and tackles him from behind and out of the way of stray rubble, sending them both splashing into the water.

"Sorry about that," she giggles, sheepishly rubbing the back of her head as he bobs back to the surface. Her carefree laughter only adds fuel to his fire and he quickly whirls around – teeth grit and fists clenched – to shoot her a seething glare.

"Stop trying to _fucking_ protect me!" He howls.

(He howls for the little boy he **was** : _"Gifted," they had called him, "he'll make a fine hero one day." He had believed them_ ).

"You don't need to protect me!" He wails.

(He wails for the young man he **is** : _"His attitude is a problem," they had cursed him, "he may not be fit to be a hero after all." Fuck them. He would show them. He would show them all._ )

"All right?! I don't need any of your shitty-ass help! _Fuck_!" He roars.

(He roars for the beast he **will become**. _They are shackles around his neck: his pride and their expectations. He wondered which was heavier. He wondered which would kill him first_ ).

And she looks at him with that wide-eyed gaze that made the blood roar through his veins and his heart slam against his ribcage. But the feeling wasn't the constant anger he was used to. No — this was different. This was a warmth that soothed, a sweet melody that quieted the tempest that churned within him.

"We're a team," she finally says and these three words are enough to unravel him at his seams. His eyes widen, his anger dissipates and his fists uncurl and curl and uncurl again because he can't understand; he can't even begin to fathom or grasp what she means. But she explains for him.

"As long as we're a team," she picks herself up, water dripping off of her as she rises to her feet, "I've got your back." She shoots him a reassuring smile and extends a hand toward him.

The déjà vu sends him reeling. She really is just like the fucking nerd, he thinks darkly as his eyes dart between her extended hand and her warm smile, but unlike with Midoriya, a part of him strangely wants to believe her words. She was strong, she was fierce, and she was a fighter and the part of him that respected that wanted to think that maybe they _could_ be a team: ready to kick ass, take names, and save the world.

And he hates it.

So he snarls and slaps her hand away, sadness from the rejection briefly flashing in her eyes as hefts himself to his feet.

"Just don't get in my fucking way," he mutters and her eyes brighten at his words as he wades through the muddy water and angrily sloshes past her.

"I won't!" Her voice rings from behind him, full of vigor and determination, and he briefly looks down at his hands again, wondering what would've happened if he'd taken her hand; if he had accepted her help.

Perhaps he would've been set free.

(— _but the boy, the young man, and the beast within him all protest: no, no, no, surely he would've just been dragged into her depths_.)

* * *

A/N: Please read and review! Also, I've got another prompt that I'll be putting up soon!


	9. Prompt 9: I just want this

_A/N: And here's Prompt 09! I also made this a while ago but I think this was one of my favorites. It gets pretty steamy, which was supeeeeer embarrassing to write. But overall it was fun (is that the right description? haha). Anyway, please remember to read and review! I look forward to all of your comments!_

 _Summary:_ _A collection of kacchako/bakuraka drabbles - Prompt 09: "I just want this" - "He can still taste her on his tongue. The taste of infinity: of the vast, milky universe and the fire of far-flung stars and galaxies that he wanted to explore - that he needed to explore."_

 _Disclaimer: I do not own Boku no Hero Academia, Horikoshi Kohei does. I also not own this drabble prompt, it was created by myquantumtheory on tumblr._

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~x~

 _Prompt 09: "I just want this"_

~x~

* * *

Bakugou's calloused fingers handcuff Ochako's wrists and pin them against the cool wooden plane of the door, trapping her in the cage of his arms as he hovers above her. He looks down at her with quiet apprehension and she looks up at him in wide-eyed anticipation as they both inhale and exhale the silence and silver moonlight. With eyebrows knit and eyes narrowed, he surveys her. His red eyes watch the midnight shadows dance across her face, see the way her chestnut hair frame the pink of her cheeks, and observe the soft flutter of her long eyelashes and the perk of her pink lips.

 _She's beautiful_ , a part of him concludes and he is sure to mute this voice because _no, she definitely_ _ **fucking**_ _isn't_.

 _She's dangerous_ , another part of him argues and this is the voice he can agree with. She must've had some sort of secret hypnosis quirk because that was the only reasonable explanation for why they were in this precarious position. The effect she had on him was a _weakness_ and all of his senses tell him that she's a threat; that her charm is deceptive and her allure is a lie and that his best of course of action is to drop everything, head back to his dorm room and never turn back.

"Bakugou-kun…"

Well _, for fuck's sake_ , how was he supposed to leave when those wide eyes of hers were practically begging him to stay? Bakugou can feel his heart thunder at the melody of her voice and a part of him (the part that he really needed to fucking _shut up_ ) briefly wonders what she'd sound like saying his first name instead - _over and over and over again…_

"I want this," she continues with a breathless whisper, her soft voice breaking into a plea as her pink lips part with the weight of her quickening gasps, "I…just want this…"

Everything about her is so soft and so pure and so innocent, from her doe-eyed gaze to her round, pink cheeks, but her words betray her dangerous intentions. He had known since the first time he had fought against her but now he was even more sure of this one fact: that there was more to Uraraka Ochako than meets the eye.

Bakugou feels the warmth of her breath fan across his lips and the shuddering rise and fall of her supple chest against his as they breathe in stagnant time together. His eyes drink in her flushed expression and watch the ribbons of moonlight ripple across her face, illuminating the rising red of her cheeks. Ivory freckles of far-flung starlight shimmer in the glassy pools of her eyes, glazed over with both want and apprehension. _She's beautiful_ , he thinks again and this time he makes no effort to argue otherwise.

He licks his lips and tries to remember how to breathe.

He was Bakugou Katsuki and he was _never_ afraid, _never_ fearful, and _never_ weak. But he was also an intelligent man and he could feel the static voltage churning inside of him, crackling and buzzing with heated entropy. This feeling was a fact. He cannot deny it and he cannot deny that there was an explosion brewing inside of him larger than he'd ever had to withstand before; that his insides are gunpowder and gasoline and she is the match ready to strike and ignite him. But then what? What becomes of them when they are set ablaze? If he kisses her - in this time and in this place - what would it mean for him, for her, for them?

He releases his visor grip on her wrists and slides his palms to meet hers before interlocking fingers.

"Bakugou-kun…," the groan of his name breaks him from his thoughts and he feels her writhe impatiently underneath him, beckoning him to make that leap of faith, to claim her lips as his and etch himself into her.

The fire was lit and he was never one to be afraid.

And so he let it burn.

 _"Fuck it,"_ his voice rumbles with a low growl and his inside roar with the whoosh of flames as he swoops down to capture her lips in one breathless motion. He feels her instantly surge against him as she whines against his lips and the pulsating warmth of her body intoxicates him. He doesn't move - _can't move_ \- and instead scrunches his eyes shut even tighter as he tries to calm the restless pounding of his heart against his ribcage. Her grip on his hands tightens as they part and his insides twist and churn at the moonbeams in her eyes as she looks up at him.

"Again…"

There is a silent question, a restless plea at the end of her word and he _very begrudgingly_ realizes that he is merciless to her siren call. He swallows a lump he hadn't realized had risen in his throat and leans down again; noses bumping and teeth clacking as they awkwardly attempt a second kiss. But he soon gets the hang of the motions. He is a genius after all. Soon, he deciphers the push and pull of her lips against his, understands the pulsing rhythm of her body rubbing against his, and maps out the contours, the hills, and the valleys of her body with his wandering hands.

He's far too stubborn to say her name out loud but his kisses translate the words he cannot say. His every motion calls out her name: the scrape of his teeth against the plump of her lips - _Ochako_ \- the tease of his tongue against the seam of her lips - _Ochako_ \- the wet shudder of his open mouth against hers as she hums her acceptance and parts her lips, granting him access - _Ochako_.

His tongue darts inside of her and he realizes that she tastes of smoke and desire. His mouth drips with the taste of her and her sweet perfume curls inside of him; heated tendrils licking and curling in his lungs and kindling the hottest of fires within him. It is hellfire. It is unrepentant sin and wanton lust. He muses that even the devil himself would burn in their flames.

The tempo of their kisses increase and they become heated, raw, _desperate_. Her chant of his name beckons him back to her as his wet mouth bobs back and forth against hers. He is greedy for more of her. He is desperate for more of her and she does not withhold from him. Her nimble hands rush to cup the hollow of his cheeks, caressing his face before sliding up and threading her fingers through the rebellious spikes of his blonde hair. She whimpers his name in broken syllables and her vice-grip tightens on his hair as his tongue swipes across her lips and travels along her skin - teasing her, tasting her, _marking her_. His nose skims the milky column of her neck as he showers a rain of kisses down to her collarbone; his teeth leaving a trail of burn marks along the way. She trembles and shakes in his strong embrace and her breaths are high-pitched and desperate as she clings to him.

"Don't go," he suddenly stops at the sound of her voice, so soft and so fragile, like the flutter of iridescent butterfly wings, but also so much unlike her.

He pulls back, eyebrows furrowed and lips pulled down in a frown. "Uraraka…" he starts to argue, tries to tell her that the idea was _fucking_ insane - that there was no way in hell he could stay for the night - but stops when he feels her arms tighten around him, rendering him speechless and immobile.

"Don't go," she repeats into the hollow of his neck, "stay."

And in that moment he understood. He understood perfectly. Uraraka Ochako was both beauty and danger, he was the fool who had flown too close to her sun and now he would have to pay the price for his greed.

His gaze settles directly on hers. There is no longer any doubt in his eyes, only quiet acceptance and hazy reflections of the feelings he never puts into words. "Fine," he accepts and she nods softly. She takes him gingerly by the hand and leads him towards her bed and like a puppet on a string he follows with his eyes wide and his heart pounding and pounding and pounding.

"Bakugou-kun…?" He looks down at her again and sees the moonlight in her eyes and the stardust on her lips. He swallows hard and can still taste her on his tongue. The taste of infinity: of the vast, milky universe and the fire of far-flung stars and galaxies that he wanted to explore - that he _needed_ to explore.

And so he leans into her and presses his body flush against hers, the timpani of their matching heartbeats keeping time as his hands settle at her waist.

"Katsuki," he corrects her, "just Katsuki."

She pauses, her eyes quickly searching his for affirmation before she nods softly again.

"Ok," she takes in a shaky breath as she cranes upward and winds her arms around his neck, her eyelids fluttering shut as she breathes out.

"Katsuki…"

They pitch backwards and like Icarus they fall.

Into the sky.

Into the sea.

With tender wings burning with the rage of their love.

They fall.

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 _A/N: *dives into holy water* Please read and review! Also, I'm unsure if I should upload my other prompts since there's so many…or perhaps I should do it piece by piece and not all at once?_


	10. Prompt 10: Nurse Me

_A/N: So I haven't updated this in a while, reason being that I've actually written a ton of kacchako drabbles on my tumblr and I didn't know whether or not to include them here in one go or upload them one by one. Anyway, I decided to just upload them one by one so…yea…it's gonna take a while…Anyway, please remember to read and review, I adore reading all of your lovely comments!_

 _Summary: A collection of kacchako/bakuraka drabbles – Prompt 10: Nurse Me – He knew that she would only smother him with love and useless shit like that in an effort to nurse him back to health and that was the last thing he wanted._

 _Disclaimer: I don't own Boku no Hero Academia, Horikoshi Kohei does. I also did not create this drabble prompt._

* * *

 _~x~_

 _Prompt 10: Nurse Me_

 _~x~_

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Bakugou was sick. _Really_ sick.

And not the kind of sick where he could try to walk it off and hope for the best but the kind of sick that made him feel like he had one foot in the grave. He was fighting a battle with this stupid virus and while he'd hate to admit it the sickness definitely had the upper hand so far.

"Wait til I get better," he groans, sinking deeper into his bed covers, "I'll fucking kick this virus' ass."

"Katsuki," he hears Ochako's voice and the sound of his bedroom door opening, "are you talking to yourself?" He doesn't bother to turn around to face her but rather makes an effort to avoid her. He knew that she would only smother him with love and useless shit like that in an effort to nurse him back to health and that was the last thing he wanted.

"I'm not talking to myself," he argues through a fit of coughs, "I'm waging _war_."

He hears a soft snicker. "I see," and then, "well, do you need anything?"

"No," he grumbles but the part of his brain that had yet to turn into mush thinks that an extra blanket would be nice.

"How about I bring you an extra blanket?" _Fuck_ , she was good. He grumbles and huffs underneath his breath before pulling the covers over his head. "Do whatever you want."

He hears her walk inside the bedroom and rummage through the closet before exclaiming, "I found it!" at what he presumes to be said blanket. He's proven right when he feels the weight of the blanket fall on him and wrap him in its' much needed warmth.

"Anything else?" He hears her inquire and he clenches his teeth. Who did she think he was? He may have been sick but he didn't need to be babied like some two year old.

"No," he stresses again, but the soft grumble in his stomach argues otherwise. He hears her laugh softly in response, "I'll go make food for you, ok?"

"Whatever." Fuck her and her tender love and care.

Some time passes (minutes, hours, he can't really judge time that well when every part of his body feels like it's on fucking fire) before she enters the room again. "I made porridge," Ochako announces as she approaches him with a tray of the steaming hot bowl. She sets the tray on the nightstand and pulls up a chair to sit next to him, "do you need help eating it?"

He manages to let out a curt "tch", his eyes narrowing at the challenge as he pulls himself up to a sitting position. "Don't fucking patronize me," he grumbles, "I can damn well eat by myself. Where are the chopsticks?"

There's an awkward pause.

"Katsuki," she slowly breaks the silence, "you can't…eat porridge with chopsticks…"

He freezes in place, mentally kicking himself at his goof, before flaring up to defend his pride. "I knew that!" He growls and Ochako tries to suppress a grin at his tantrum, "fuck! What are you doing at my house, anyway?!"

" _Our_ house," she corrects him, "Katsuki, we're _married_."

Oh…right. He knew that too.

"Here," Ochako stands up before crawling onto the bed and sitting next to him. She pats her shoulder in invitation, "rest your head on my shoulder. I'll feed you."

"Fuck you," he curses in his last ditch effort to preserve his pride as his head rolls onto her shoulder.

"I know," she jokes with a grin as she pulls the tray onto her lap, "I'm just so terrible."

But he knew that wasn't the case as she supported him and quietly spooned him porridge until the bowl was finally empty.

"You better not tell anyone about this," he threatens with as much of a growl as he could muster and Ochako nods with a soft laugh. "I won't," and then she pats her lap invitingly after she sets the tray aside, "rest here."

"Don't baby me," he drawls in a feverish stupor but his body has a mind of its own as he rests his head on her lap, "or I'll fucking kick your ass." He can feel exhaustion taking over his body and beckoning him to sleep as his eyelids sluggishly droop shut.

He hears her hum in acceptance, "ok, Katsuki." Then, he feels the warmth of her hand settle on his cheek and he vacantly thinks that it's a pleasant warmth; unlike the heat of the hellish fever wracking through his body.

"Do you feel any better, now?" Worry colors her voice and he wants to tell her not to waste her time worrying; there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that he'd lose to this shitty disease.

And so he pulls up against her and murmurs "yea" as he slowly drifts into the darkness of sleep.

"I feel better."


	11. Prompt 11: Amuse Me

_A/N: Here's another one!_

 _Summary: A collection of kacchako/bakuraka drabbles – Prompt 11: Amuse Me –_ _It was time to roll out plan B, which was to just flat-out kill Kaminari and hope that Ochako found as much amusement in murder as he did._

 _Disclaimer: I don't own Boku no Hero Academia, Horikoshi Kohei does. I also did not create this drabble prompt._

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 _~x~_

 _Prompt 11: Amuse Me_

 _~x~_

* * *

Ochako is moping. Bakugou doesn't know if it's because of the shitty weather, or if something bad had happened but she's moping and he notices.

He has no idea why he notices but he does and he hates it. She was supposed to be sunshine and rainbows; an endless fountain of mirth and joy and other nasty ass shit like that. And when she wasn't, it completely changed the dynamics of the entire class. All of the other students were constantly making efforts to cheer her up only to be met with a sad smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and even Aizawa seemed to notice her mood and the effect it had on the class.

All right, Bakugou decides after Aizawa leaves at the end of homeroom, clearly he'd have to be the one to bite the bullet and act in the greater good for the class (but not for Ochako, _definitely_ not for her). He'd go with Plan A: beat Kaminari into submission and turn him into an idiot, which was always the safest route to cheer up this class of imbeciles.

"Kaminari, come here," Bakugou beckons him with a finger and Kaminari starts to make his way toward him before stopping in place. Suspicion clouds his golden eyes.

"Wait," Kaminari starts slowly, taking one step back, "…why?"

"Don't ask useless-ass questions and _come here_!" Bakugou barks and slams a hand on his desk for added emphasis. Kaminari can practically feel tears welling up in his eyes.

"I don't know, man," he stammers, nervously rubbing the back of his head, "last time I was near you, you literally beat me into an idiot…"

Jirou snorts at the memory.

"Shut the fuck up, last-placer!" Smoke trails ominously from his fingertips as he glares at Kaminari, "get over here and stop wasting my damn time!"

"But…I don't _trust_ you," Kaminari continues with a whine, now making a full-fledged effort to back away as Bakugou leaps to his feet and cracks his knuckles.

"The _fuck_?! I'm plenty trustworthy, you fuckmunch!" Bakugou realizes that plan A might not exactly pan out and so it was time to roll out plan B, which was to just flat-out kill Kaminari and hope that Ochako ( _the class_ , he mentally corrects himself) found as much amusement in murder as he did.

Kirishima crosses his arms thoughtfully. "I don't know about trustworthy, man."

"You're more intimidating than trustworthy," Tsuyu adds with a ribbit as Midoriya shakes with stifled laughter. It didn't matter how many times this happened, the sight of Bakugou getting teased by the class was always a rare but welcomed surprise.

Bakugou also trembles, but with rage, as the tables steadily turn against him. The one time he tries to do the right thing and he gets his ass handed to him. Fuck this, he was just going to murder all of class 1-A regardless of whether or not it amused Ochako.

He stomps toward Kaminari, who at this point was honestly on the brink of tears, before stopping at the sound of familiar laughter. The whole class turns to look as Ochako starts to giggle, her eyes crinkling shut as she covers her smile with her fingers. There is a palpable relief in the air and the class immediately swarms to her as she laughs and laughs and laughs.

"You guys are too funny!" She manages to spit out in between fits of guffaws and laughter ripples among them in agreement.

Bakugou lowers his fists and his shoulders slump as his rage deflates and the attention shifts to Ochako. He quietly makes his way back to his desk, throws on his schoolbag and rushes out of the classroom before anyone notices. He can hear the sound of her laughter echo in the hallway, trilling bright and clear.

He doesn't think her laughter is _beautiful_ or anything like that (cause fuck that) but he also doesn't mind it. He closes his eyes and imagines her smiling at him, blushing at him, and giggling at something that he probably would never understand.

The edges of his mouth tick upward at this thought.

Yea, he thinks, he wouldn't mind that.


	12. Prompt 12: Enamor Me

_**A/N:**_ _Man, I was supposed to upload two of these daily so that I could catch up but…that didn't happen. This would've been so appropriate for Valentine's Day too! Ah well, anyway, here's another drabble. Please remember to read and review! I appreciate each and every single one!_

 _ **Summary:**_ _A collection of kacchako/bakuraka drabbles – Prompt 12: Enamor Me – "'I like you.' Her voice is soft but true and he feels his heart tremble at her sunset gaze."_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I don't own Boku no Hero Academia, Horikoshi Kohei does. I also do not own this drabble prompt._

* * *

 _~x~_

 _Prompt 12: Enamor Me_

 _~x~_

* * *

"These are for you."

Bakugou slams his shoe locker shut with a resounding bang as he shoots a glare at Ochako and her bag of what was apparently supposed to be chocolate.

"The fuck are these?"

"Chocolate," she answers proudly as she puffs out her chest, "I made them for you." She shoves the bag closer toward him and he slaps her hand away in agitation.

"I don't like sweets," he growls but is startled silent as she gingerly takes his hand and places the bag on his palm.

"Take them anyway," her rosy cheeks lift as she smiles, "they're for you, after all. If you don't like them you can give them to someone else."

He glances at her and then glances at the bag before huffing out a string of curses and reluctantly opening up the bag and peering inside. The chocolates are bumpy and deformed, looking nothing like what normal chocolate is supposed to look like.

He grimaces as he pulls one out of the bag and pops it into his mouth.

"How is it?" She asks him cautiously, trying to gauge his reaction. He lets out a huff as he picks up another piece of the chocolate and tosses it into his mouth.

"It's shit," he grumbles and she lets out a relieved sigh. Why the hell was she relieved? He had just told her straight to her face that it tasted terrible. He shakes his head and bites off another piece.

"I'm glad you like it," the blush on her cheek grows as she smiles at him and he can feel the heat rising in his cheeks as well.

"I never said that!" He argues taking the last bite, "I literally told you that it tastes like ass!" He figures that there must be something wrong with her because now her eyes are twinkling and she can't seem to stop smiling at him. She rocks on the balls of her feet, twiddling her fingers as she shyly looks up at him.

"Walk me back to the dorm?" She asks softly, and he can feel his heart constrict at her words.

' _No_ ,' he thinks, ' _no way hell_."

"Whatever," he says.

Close enough.

Her smile widens further (he didn't even think that was possible) as she rushes to join him at his side.

"Next time I won't make you anything sweet!" She declares as they walk out of the school. His heart pounds at the promise of a 'next time'. "Maybe something savory? You seem like the type to like spicy food."

He _did_ like spicy food but it wasn't like he was actually going to _tell_ her that. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and looks away. "Who the fuck makes spicy food for Valentine's Day?"

"I will," she grins and again he can feel his heart lurch at this future promise, "there is such thing as spicy chocolate, you know."

He scoffs. "Like hell I'd know."

"There _is_." She then starts waxing poetically about the different chocolatiers in the city. She lists out the different flavors of chocolate, ranging from sweet to sour, from bitter to tart, and from savory to spicy. He listens to her map out the exact places of each chocolate shop, listens to her explain the nearest station to each and how far it was from campus. All through this he doesn't speak, only listens, but there's a part of him content with this: simply listening to the excitement in her voice.

"There's this bakery in my hometown," she hops and skips beside him and casts a smile in his direction, "one day I'll—!" And she suddenly stops as they both look at each other in wide-eyed surprise at the words unsaid. She blushes and he blushes and immediately they both turn to look in the opposite direction before walking in heavy silence.

His heart gallops in his chest as he tries to fill in the blank. One day she'll what? Show him? Introduce him to it? Take him there? Fuck her, he didn't have time to be thinking about all this useless chocolate stuff when he still needed to dominate the professional hero world and reign as #1. He'd have to break it to her; tell her to end all this "next time" future nonsense because he didn't have time to fuck around and play house with her.

"Uraraka–."

"Bakugou-kun!" He stops in his tracks as he feels her hand rest on his arm and takes one look at her hand before looking up at her face.

"What the fuck are you–!"

"I like you!" She blurts out and every thought in his mind immediately screeches to a halt.

Well, _shit_ …

He watches in stupefied silence as she lets go of him, blushing and fidgeting anxiously. She chews on her bottom lip as she nervously clasps and unclasps her hands and peeks at him from underneath her eyelashes., silently pleading for his response.

"Who the fuck told you to like me?!" Her face falls at what she perceives is rejection and Bakugou splutters unintelligibly as he tries to redeem himself. "I-I mean, _fuck_ , I didn't say I didn't like you!" Her lips lift into a smile at this and this causes Bakugou to rage even more. "I didn't say I like you either! STOP PUTTING WORDS INTO MY MOUTH!" For some godforsaken reason this makes her smile more and Bakugou is sure he's about to blow a blood vessel. "FOR FUCK'S SAKE STOP SMILING BEFORE I KNOCK OUT YOUR TEETH!"

"Ok!" She squishes her cheeks with her palms in an attempt to look serious, "I'll be serious. This is my neutral face."

"There's nothing _neutral_ about your face, you look like a damn blowfish!"

She splutters before bursting out into laughter as Bakugou stomps away. "Wait, Bakugou-kun," her voice cracks with laughter, "wait, let me try again. _I like you_!"

"I don't give a steaming shit!" He seethes as he marches away and he can hear the sound of her running to catch up to him.

" _I like you_!" Her confession is punctuated with giggles and his fists clench at his side.

"I don't fucking care!" And then he stops as he feels her hand slides into his. He whirls around, teeming with intentions to lash out and rage at her, but his anger quickly dies as his red eyes meet with hers. The colors of the sunset swim in her eyes as she looks up at him, her gaze now serious and earnest. He feels a slight tremor as her grip tightens on his hand and she takes in a deep breath in an attempt to muster up her courage.

" _I like you_." Her voice is soft but true and he feels his heart tremble at her sunset gaze.

The words "I don't care" hang on his lips as he looks at her in wide-eyed silence but he cannot dislodge the words from his throat. He gulps hard and tastes the bitter sweetness of the chocolate on his tongue and realizes why he can't say those words.

He realizes it's because he does care.

He cares a whole fucking lot.


	13. Prompt 13: Quiet Me

_**A/N:**_ _I wrote these, like, back in September and reading them again now is kind of cringey, haha. Although I don't think my style has changed that much in 6 months? Anyway, please remember to read and review!_

 _ **Summary:**_ _A collection of kacchako/bakuraka drabbles – Prompt 13: Quiet Me – "_ _Katsuki. She breathes in. Dead. She breathes out. He's dead."_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I don't own Boku no Hero Academia, Horikoshi Kohei does. I also do not own this drabble prompt._

* * *

 _~x~_

 _Prompt 13: Quiet Me_

 _~x~_

* * *

"We come to you with the latest on today's attack in Katsura Town. The death toll has now been revised to 112 with countless many others injured." The television drawls in the background as Ochako rushes around the dining room, looking for her house keys. Her office had just called her about this very attack, letting her know that while the villain had been captured they still needed her help with ongoing rescue efforts.

"And this just in, there are _unconfirmed_ reports suggesting that Japan's #2 hero, popularly known as…," there's a crackle of static and Ochako looks up to see her husband's scowling face plastered on the TV, "…and more commonly known as Bakugou Katsuki may be among one the many casualties. Indeed, this is truly a sad day for Japan…"

There is a dull thud as Ochako's knees hit the floor.

She chokes out a shuddering gasp.

She feels light-headed and faint and everything around her swirls in an abstract mix of colors. There is no sound, only muffled ringing and the swell of her desperate lungs trying to remember how to breathe. Her eyes burn with unshed tears as every fiber of her being throbs in wretched pain. Pain, that's all she feels; endless, gut-wrenching, torturous pain.

 _Katsuki._

She breathes in.

 _Dead._

She breathes out.

 _He's dead._

And then sobs. Her mouth opens but there is no sound, only muted misery as she curls into herself and wraps her arms around her stomach, trying to keep herself from vomiting. And then suddenly there is sound; strangled, strained, and tormented sound as she lets out a pained wail that reverberates through the house.

Her only thought is to go, get out of the house, go out there and find him. Save him. Save him. She has to save him.

She stumbles with a gasp to her feet, scalding tears dripping from her chin as she staggers toward the doorway. She had never prayed before but now she was praying – _oh God_ – she was praying for him to _please be alive, please be alive, please be ali—._

Her train of thought is cut off as the door cries open, slams shut and Bakugou stumbles in.

She looks up and her gaze meets Bakugou's red eyes and suddenly everything zooms back into focus. Color and sound return to her world, her lungs remember how to breathe and her heart – _her poor, devastated heart_ – starts piecing itself back together because, "you're alive," she gasps breathlessly before her face crumples with the rush of relief. "Katsuki, you're—!"

And then she gets a good look at him. He is all blood and all gore; patterns of purple and yellow bruises decorating his skin along with rivulets of crimson blood streaming down his face, his arms, his torso, his _everything_. She rushes to catch him as he buckles to his knees and pulls him onto her lap as she cradles him in her arms.

"Y-you're hurt," she stammers and he lets out a pained groan in response. "I'll live."

"I was so worried," she blubbers through snot and tears, her face bright red from the rollercoaster of emotions she had just endured, "I-I thought you were…I thought you were—!" She wails into his chest and leaves her sentence unfinished.

"You're so fucking noisy," he grumbles softly, his eyelids drooping with exhaustion. She sniffles.

"I thought you were dead," she repeats in a broken whisper. "The news said you were dead. It said you were among the casualties so I thought…" Again the words die in her throat as she scrunches her eyes shut and lets out a strangled sob.

His chest shudders as he coughs. " _Fuck the news_ , like hell I'd die from some punk ass villain," he declares with utmost confidence despite the wretched state he was in. "I'm still here and I'm not dying anytime soon. Not until I kick that fucking nerd's ass and take my spot as the number one hero."

She lets out a watery chuckle at this, her lips pulling up into a shaky grin. That was just like the Bakugou she knew.

He lifts up a shaky hand to roughly wipe away the tear stains on her cheeks. Her sniffles quiet as his fingertips hover on her cheek before he finally cups it in his palm.

"You're a fucking mess," he scolds her and she laughs again because he was honestly one to talk.

"I know." She smiles at his clumsy affection.

"And you're dumb as hell," he adds with a scowl, "how are you going to believe the news like that and think that I was fucking dead?" She laughs again, hastily wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, "I know."

He opens his mouth again to say something else but is silenced as she cradles him even closer. Her body presses against him as she buries her face into his chest, breathing in his scent before exhaling.

"I love you." She whispers and he looks away, cheeks red and eyebrows knit in embarrassment.

"Yea, yea," he grumbles offhandedly, "I know."


	14. Prompt 15: Break Me

_**A/N:**_ _I really need to update this more consistently since I still have so many drabbles to upload before I'm caught up! Speaking of catching up I can't wait for the Bakugou vs. Uraraka fight in the anime! It's gonna be great, ugh, my poor heart isn't ready._

 _ **Summary:**_ _A collection of kacchako/bakuraka drabbles – Prompt 15: Break Me – "_ _As she cries out and squirms in pain, she thinks she's actually going to die…_ _He's actually going to kill her."_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I don't own Boku no Hero Academia, Horikoshi Kohei does._

* * *

 _~x~_

 _Prompt 15: Break Me_

 _~x~_

* * *

"Uraraka-kun! Uraraka-kun, _are you there_?! **Uraraka**!"

With a gasp, Ochako's eyelids flutter open to reality; to a city on fire. Her shoulders tremble with dry coughs as thick smoke burns at her eyes and greedy flames lap at her skin. She groans and her body cries out in violent protest as she breathes, rolls onto her back, and tries to sort out her thoughts.

Where was she?

Why was she here?

The voice crackles again in her earpiece and Ochako sighs in relief when she realizes that it's Iida. "I-I'm here," she wheezes, propping herself on her elbows and looking around.

She is surrounded by the skeletal remains of a city in ruin. The city bleeds fire and exhales smoke from the scattered rubble, the fragments of upturned streets, mangled vehicles and what remained of the buildings. It is hell. It is unapologetic cruelty and wicked savagery.

And she can't remember how she got here.

"Uraraka…," Iida's voice is relieved and then urgent again. "Uraraka-kun! The civilians have been safely evacuated," – _if_ _they had been evacuated then why was there so much blood on the streets, on her?_ – "so _please_ , fall back! We've been given orders to—!"

And then she remembers. Ochako remembers red; the crimson of their blood painting the streets and the deep velvet emptiness in his eyes. She remembered now that she had fought him. She had tried to stop him. She had tried to save him…

"I can't do that Iida-kun," she staggers onto one foot and then the other before she straightens her back and looks warily at the plume of smoke billowing in front of her, "you know I can't."

A pause and then Iida speaks; his voice soft and pained. "Uraraka…it's already too late…"

Ochako freezes at the clunking sound of approaching footsteps before clenching her fists resolutely and stepping back into a fighting stance.

"He burnt down half the city," Iida continues, "the police have already branded him a threat – _a villain."_

A hazy silhouette ripples in the distance before the figure emerges; parting the smoke with his grand entrance.

"This Bakugou is no longer the Bakugou we know…"

She swallows hard as Bakugou appears before her. But Iida was wrong, this was _not_ Bakugou, this was _not_ her husband. He looked like him, he walked like him, but she knew it wasn't him. She had stared into his eyes enough to know that this hollow gaze was one of a stranger. This Bakugou was a cheap imitation of the real one, a mere phantom of her husband, and the real Bakugou was trapped in this ghost.

Ochako swallows back a sob and tries to still the quiver in her fists. "Give him back," she tries her best to appear strong, to steady the tremble in her voice and blink away the hot tears in her eyes. This Bakugou stops and looks at her as if she is a stranger. Her fragile heart shatters at the unfamiliarity in his gaze as he scrutinizes her. She nearly gags as his hollow red gaze inspects her, _dissects her_.

"Just…give him back," her voice breaks and her cheeks crimson from the effort of holding back tears.

This gets a response from him. He takes one clunking step towards her and Ochako stiffens, fists held up to her face as she prepares to fight. She had lost the first round but this time all she had to do was tap him once and then they would be able to capture him. Just one tap and they would capture him and figure what was controlling him and then…

"You're distracted."

Ochako doesn't have time to gasp as 'Bakugou' surges at her and torpedoes a flaming punch into her gut. There's the rush of wind – ( _it hurts_ ) – the burn of scalding tears in her eyes – ( _it hurts_ ) – and the deafening crack of splintering bone ( _it hurts_ ). Suddenly, the ground is the sky, and the sky is the ground, and she feels the rush of the earth spinning around her as his punch sends her soaring into the air. She can't breathe, she can't speak, she can't see and all she tastes is the blood swirling in her mouth and the acid of vomit burning in the back of her throat. There's only pain as gravity mercilessly slams her back down to earth and, as she cries out and squirms in pain, she thinks she's actually going to die…

 _He's actually going to kill her._

Ochako tries to shuffle away as he stalks toward her but she can't escape. He bends down, picks her up by her collar and surveys his prize as he lifts her high up into the air. She thinks that this is her chance; she just needs to touch him _once_ but her broken arms do not comply as they hang limply at her side.

 _She's dying_ and he seems to stop as he realizes this. There is a gleam of painful recognition in his eyes, a sudden quiver in his hands as his mouth gapes.

"Ocha…ko…?"

Fresh tears dribble down her cheeks as his consciousness swims to the surface. "I…was right," Ochako croaks, a trembling smile stretching across her cracked, bleeding lips. She summons the last of her strength and lifts a shaky hand toward his face, "Katsuki…"

In his eyes she sees broken refractions of the man she loves still struggling and still fighting – _just as he would_ – before his expression crumples with anguish and he unleashes a strained, tortured yell. His watery eyes look at her – at what he had _done_ to her – in wet horror and lucidity but his body is not his own as he slowly pulls back his shaking fist. He is a puppet on a string, a marionette dancing to the whims of a twisted, cruel quirk of some kind and he can only watch in muted agony as his fist crackles and pops with fiery killing intent.

A tear ghosts down the slope of his cheek.

"I knew…that wasn't you," Ochako whispers.

With a tormented roar, he unleashes and like a meteor his punch streaks and fizzes red and yellow as his fist hurtles toward her. Her fingertips settle softly on his tear-stained cheek and she smiles.

"… _Please don't cry_ …"

 _It breaks my heart._

She tastes the ashes and embers of dying stars – a farewell kiss of fire and gas – before she slips into darkness.


	15. Prompt 16: Love Me

_**A/N:**_ _More updates~! I'll do one more for today~!_

 _ **Summary:**_ _A collection of kacchako/bakuraka drabbles – Prompt 16: Love Me – "'And sometimes I wish,' she continues softly, her chest heaving up and down as she breathes in and sighs, 'sometimes I wish I could hear you say "I love you" too.'"_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I don't own Boku no Hero Academia, Horikoshi Kohei does._

* * *

 _~x~_

 _Prompt 16: Love Me_

 _~x~_

* * *

The stars embroidered in the night sky wink down at them; shimmering in silent glee and twinkling with quiet mirth. The stars blink in rapidly alternating patterns to the rhythm of their midnight song; serenading the two of them as they lay underneath the silver glow.

Ochako lifts a hand up towards the sky and feels the midnight wind whisper through the spaces between her fingers.

"I'm glad we hiked up here," she admits to her silent partner and Bakugou grunts back in response. Her eyes flit in his direction and she sees him lay in relative indifference with his hands folded behind his head and one leg crossed over the other.

She smiles at him before turning her gaze back to the ultramarine drapery of the night sky.

"Bakugou-kun," her voice is soft and dreamy and he gets an unpleasant premonition at her tone, "tell me about the stars."

She hears him snort.

"Like hell I'd talk about some shitty stars. Google that shit on your own."

Her cheeks balloon as she pouts at him and he tenses at this before he growls in resignation.

"All right, _FINE_! _FUCK_!"

With an angry huff, Bakugou lifts a finger to the sky.

"The one right fucking there is Orion," – ("which one?" she asks eagerly as she scoots toward him and he stiffens at her closeness) – "the one right there! It's right _fucking_ there! It's— _fuck this_!" Bakugou hesitates before quickly taking her hand in his and pointing her finger to the sky.

"Those three in a line," his heart trembles as her head rolls onto his shoulder. He directs her finger to trace the line of three stars shimmering against the darkness, "those are Orion's belt." He moves her finger to the two stars twinkling north of the line, "these two are his shoulders," and then points to the two stars south of the line, "and these are his legs."

Immediately, he lets go of her hand and he lets out a relieved sigh as she leans away and breathes out a soft "ohhhh".

"So that one is called Orion," she repeats in awe before turning to look at him, "how'd you know?"

"Astronomy class," he grunts offhandedly, "it was required."

She nods at his curt response and turns her gaze back to the sky.

"It'd be great if we could see a shooting star," she gushes, cheeks reddening at the pleasant thought, "what would you wish for Bakugou-kun?"

Bakugou snorts in disdain at this idea. "Wishes are for punk ass bitches that don't have the guts to accomplish something," he snaps, "I don't wish for shit, I fucking _do it_."

"Hm," Ochako hums in response, tapping a thoughtful finger to her chin. Despite the coarse language, what he was saying wasn't entirely wrong.

"I guess you're kind of right," she admits, pumping her fists into the air, "it's better to try your best to make your dreams come true rather than just _wishing_ for it to come true! But…you know…"

She unclenches her fists and extends her fingers toward the sky; reaching out towards the unseen and unattainable infinity of the universe. "There are still some things I wish for. Like, I wish for my parents to remain healthy for a long, long, time!" Bakugou remains silent. They were polar opposites when it came to the topic of their parents. She loved her parents unconditionally while he only mildly tolerated his.

"I wish for my friends to do well in everything they do," she continues, "and then I…"

Bakugou turns his eyes to look at her as she trails off. She swallows hard and he can see the blush burning on her cheeks as she struggles to dislodge the words from her throat.

"I wish to…stay with you," she confesses shyly and his eyes widen as his heart pounds violently in his chest.

" _What_?!" He demands, hastily wiping away the sweat from his hands on his jeans.

"I love you," she breathes into the night air and Bakugou sits straight up, sputtering and coughing unintelligible gibberish as his face turns red and cold sweat dribbles down the side of his face.

" _S-shut the fuck up_!" He stammers, his breath catching in his throat. How could she just outright _say_ something so embarrassing with such a straight face? Fuck her and her unabashed display of affection but that's when he realizes that she's not actually looking at him. He realizes that her gaze is still fixated on the stars and on some distant, unfulfilled wish.

"And sometimes I wish," she continues softly, her chest heaving up and down as she breathes in and sighs, "sometimes I wish I could hear you say "I love you" too."

A silence descends upon them; broken only by the sound of the wind whistling through tree branches, the coo of night owls and the distant chirping of crickets. Nature sings to them and quietly urges him to tell her…to tell her how he really felt ( _fuck nature_ ).

"But!" Ochako interrupts his thoughts as she pulls herself up to a sitting position, her short, chestnut hair bobbing with her movements, "I wouldn't want to force you to say something you're not ready to say. So, don't worry about it!"

She hefts herself to her feet and dusts off the dirt from her shorts before walking to pick up her hiking gear.

He looks back at the stars and with each cheeky blink, they gently compel him to tell her he loves her ( _fuck the stars_ ). He closes his eyes, feels the caress of the wind on his cheeks and listens to the erratic timpani of his heartbeat beat out the same request ( _fuck his heart_ ). Finally, he reopens his eyes to find her looking at him in confusion.

"Bakugou-kun," her voice is music, "are you all right?"

"I love you," his eyelids squeeze shut and his fists clench as he mumbles this to the ground.

Ochako blinks quizzically at him and steps closer to him, "wait, what? Did you say something? I didn't hear you."

He lifts his head up, regards her quietly before scowling. "No."

As he hefts himself to his feet, Bakugou begrudgingly thinks that this was one battle he couldn't win right now. When it came to her, he was like one of those 'punk ass bitches' that he had derided for not having the gall to accomplish anything.

"I didn't say anything."

But one day he would tell her. After all, he was a _winner_. One day he would conquer his heart and tell her.

If he had a single wish, then it was this.


	16. Prompt 17: Wed Me

_**A/N:**_ _I'm not worrying my glasses right now so fingers crossed that I formatted everything correctly. Please remember to read and review!_

 _ **Summary:**_ _A collection of kacchako/bakuraka drabbles – Prompt 17: Wed Me – "It's the eleventh hour and in this moment, Ochako falls in love with Bakugou all over again."_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own Boku no Hero Academia, Horikoshi Kohei does._

* * *

 _~x~_

 _Prompt 17: Wed Me_

 _~x~_

* * *

"Ow!" Ochako yelps in pain as Mina haphazardly brushes her hair.

"I don't think she's supposed to be in pain," Tsuyu suggests thoughtfully as she leans closer and Mina shakes her head in disagreement.

"Beauty _is_ pain!" She declares, " _especially_ on a wedding day!"

"I would've been happy to call in a professional hairdresser," Yaoyorozu suggests from the side, hands clasped on her lap as she overlooks the scene with a skeptical eye, "she's a family friend and currently works in Paris."

A chill giggles down Ochako's spine as she imagines the astronomical price of enlisting this Parisian hairdresser. "No thanks," she chuckles nervously and winces as the brush snags in her hair again, "I wouldn't have wanted to bother her…"

Yaoyorozu nods in understanding as Mina sets down the brush and steps back to survey her handiwork. "All right!" She beams and puffs out her chest proudly, "take a look!"

Ochako swivels in her seat to face the mirror and gasps at her reflection. A beautiful stranger stares back at her: long eyelashes fluttering with dark mascara, cheeks blushing a rosy pink and plump lips shimmering with gloss. Mina had (somehow) managed to tame the bulbous tufts of Ochako's short, chestnut brown hair and her hair now framed her round face in ringlets of thick, glossy curls. Ochako had never been one to spend money on makeup and had rarely indulged on makeovers but looking at herself now she couldn't help but think that she looked—

"—Beautiful, am I right?" Mina snickers proudly, gingerly picking up the veil, "and now—!"

She's interrupted by a sudden tremor and the sound of an approaching stampede.

" _Fuck out of my way, you fucking nerd_!"

Mina sighs, her expression dropping, "—and now the groom."

There's the chorus of slamming doors, the flood of indignant protests as the other boys try to stop Bakugou from entering and the flurry of curses as he fights them off and bursts into Ochako's room.

"You can't be in here!" Mina protests as Ochako rushes to hide behind the dressing screen, "it's bad luck!"

"I need to talk to Uraraka," Bakugou growls, pointing a seething glare in her direction and Mina gulps, quickly setting down the veil.

"Guess a few minutes can't hurt," she laughs nervously as her and the other girls file out into the hallway and close the door behind them.

"You shouldn't be in here," Ochako repeats Mina's warning from behind the dressing screen, "it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding."

"I don't care about that," Bakugou shrugs, leaning against the door, "I make my own luck."

Ochako's heart flutters at the low baritone of his voice and she smiles at his characteristic response.

"What did you want to talk about?" She finally asks and Bakugou stiffens.

"We're…," he pauses, "we're getting married, aren't we?"

"Yea, in about…1 hour," Ochako answers from behind the screen and he fidgets, angrily tugging at the hem of his suit jacket.

"And you're… _ok_ with this?" He demands incredulously, still trying to wrap his mind around the impending nuptials.

" _I'm_ the one who asked you to marry me," she answers with a laugh and Bakugou nods dumbly at the vague memory of her shyly proposing to him months ago on the way back to their apartment.

"And _I_ was ok with this?"

"Well," she hums, "your exact words were "yea, fine, I'll fucking marry you or whatever"."

He swallows hard at this. When she had asked him to marry him he had only thought about how troublesome it would be to plan for a fucking wedding. He hadn't actually thought about the part where they spend the rest of their _fucking_ lives together in holy matrimony.

"Why?" The teasing tone in her voice interrupts his thoughts, "are you nervous?"

"I don't get nervous!" He snaps and she laughs at this before suddenly her voice turns serious.

"Are you," a pause and then, "are you having second thoughts?" Pain colors her voice and this tugs at his heartstrings.

"No," he answers immediately and he can hear her breathe a sigh of relief, "I just…"

The words die in his throat as he struggles to put his feelings into words. How was he supposed to tell her that he wanted to marry her but he wasn't so sure that _she_ wanted to? While she had been the one to ask him, he wasn't sure if she exactly realized what marrying him meant. It meant spending the rest of her life with _him_ ; for every morning, every day, and every night, for the rest of their lives, her life would forever be intertwined with _his_. And he was terrified of the thought of her waking up one day to realize the gravity of her mistake; for her to wake up and realize that he had been the wrong choice and regret ever having married him.

He was afraid and he couldn't say it out loud but she always knew just how to read his silence.

"I _want_ to marry you," she assures him but this does not quell his doubts. There was only an hour left until the actual wedding but he had to ask her; he had to be sure.

The clock ticks audibly as the minute hand nears eleven o'clock.

"Ochako," he finds his voice as he walks toward the screen separating him from her, "will you…marry me?"

The clock strikes eleven, _chiming once—_

A pause and then she giggles. "We're _already_ getting married, silly."

 _Twice –_

"Yea," he mumbles, his hands clenching at his side, "but I just…want to make sure."

 _Thrice—_

It's the eleventh hour and in this moment, Ochako falls in love with Bakugou all over again.

Silence descends upon them as the clock quiets. "Yes," she whispers, her voice thick with unshed tears.

"I'll marry you, Katsuki."


	17. Prompt 18: I want to hold your hand

_**A/N:**_ _So, I'd received a kacchako request for a drabble incorporating a song by The Beatles and me being as cliché as I am I chose "I want to hold your hand". Also, Ochako and Bakugou's respective music tastes that are mentioned in this ficlet are based off some wonderful head-canons made by ochakos-trashcan on tumblr. Check them out if you have time! I would link the page but I think ffnet still doesn't allow links, right? Anyway, please remember to read and review!_

 _ **Summary:**_ _A collection of kacchako/bakuraka drabbles – Prompt 18: "I want to hold your hand" – "His heart skips to the beat of the song – ("I want to hold your hand," it sings) – and he slowly lifts his hand out of his pocket and reaches out for her hand."_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own Boku no Hero Academia, Horikoshi Kohei does. I also do not own "I want to hold your hand" by the Beatles, "Russian Roulette" by Red Velvet, and "Stricken" by Disturbed._

* * *

 _~x~_

 _Prompt 18: "I want to hold your hand"_

 _~x~_

* * *

The door to the music shop opens with the bright jingle of a bell as Ochako steps inside with Bakugou trailing behind her.

"Fucking hell," he mutters under his breath as they enter the store. They are greeted by rows of wooden shelves packed with CD's, records, and other musical memorabilia but the store itself is barren of any customers. It is painfully empty and the single employee, sitting behind the cash register and tiredly flipping through a magazine, is evidence of the low business.

"Welcome," the employee mumbles halfheartedly without looking up and Ochako nods in acknowledgement as they walk past him. Bakugou's lips thin into a frown as he looks around. The low lightning made the store appear increasingly antiquated and just looking around he could already tell they had a shitty music selection. Sensing his discomfort, Ochako pats him on the shoulder.

"Let's just see what they have!" She rushes to the sign promoting new releases and this section includes a touch-screen playlist paired with multiple headphones. The more modern set-up, a clear attempt to keep up with the times and attract more customers, stands out in stark contrast with the surrounding antiquity of the store.

"Bakugou-kun!" He looks up and groans as she eagerly holds out a second pair of headphones and waves him over, "come on! It'll be fun!" He lets out a string of curses but meanders over; his eyes narrowed as he snatches the headphones from her hands.

"Play something good." If he was going to waste his time in this shithole it might as well be while listening to good music.

"They have kpop!" She squeals gleefully and quickly selects the song, "it's a recent one too!" Bakugou frowns. He had no idea what the fuck kpop was but it sounded like it would be shit.

As if reading his thoughts, she smiles at him. "Don't worry," she assures him as she slides on her headphones, "it's good!" This does nothing to quell his doubts but with a rumbling sigh, he relents and slides on his headphones as well.

Immediately he's proven right. Kpop was complete and utter shit. His ears are flooded with the sound of breathy female voices and a cutesy synth pop beat as they launch into equally cutesy verses.

" _Fuck_ ," he curses as the ultra-sweet and sugary voices delve into the chorus and continue to grate at his nerves, "this shit is _terrible_."

"We're not even half-way through the song," Ochako whines but he shakes his head. One listen was enough for him.

"The only line I could even pick out from this shit is fucking, "russian roulette"." He slides off the headphones and rests the headband on his shoulders as he reaches for the selection screen.

"Let me show you what good music is." He presses on the screen to scroll through the selection of music, "and I'm talking about real music, none of this cutesy ass kpop shit."

"Kpop _is_ real music." Ochako frowns and crosses her arms over her chest. She had only heard this comment about a thousand times already. "Just because it's in a different language doesn't mean it's not _real music_."

"Whatever," Bakugou grunts; unconvinced. He then smirks as he selects his ideal song and hurriedly slides the headphones back on.

"All right," his smirk widens and his red eyes flash eagerly, "get ready for good shit."

Ochako opens her mouth to respond but is startled silent as a rush of aggressive power chords pound in her ears. The electric guitars cry out with painful riffs and the person who she figures is the lead singer (although he wasn't exactly singing yet) kicks off the song with a half-wail/half-roar. Her mouth drops open and her eyes widen as she turns to look at Bakugou.

" _This_ is music?"

She is in disbelief. What part of this demonic chant could possibly be considered music? She could barely distinguish the singer from the instruments; let alone what language it was in. It was all just a huge, painful assault of her ears. Bakugou aggressively headbangs from beside her; oblivious to (or just flat-out ignoring) Ochako's growing disdain for the song. Frowning, she leans forward to read the song title and band name – _Stricken by Disturbed_. It's an appropriate band name, she thinks wryly.

"All right, next." She immediately stops the song, earning a heated look of disbelief from Bakugou.

"The _fuck_? Why'd you stop the damn song?!"

"Let's look for a song we can both agree on," she hums as she scrolls and he lets out a curt "tch" in response before shoving his hands into his pockets.

"I don't see why we couldn't agree on that song," he grumbles before leaning forward to peer at the screen. His shoulder brushes against hers and Ochako feels the thrilling rush of electricity crackle through her veins at the brief contact. She can feel his body heat, the steady rise and fall of his chest and the touch of his breath as he leans closer. Her cheeks burn with her growing blush as her mind wanders to her thoughts.

Before they had started dating, he had done everything in his power to avoid even slightly touching her. Every time she drew near to him he would yell, explode, kick and scream in flustered embarrassment (and admittedly she had loved teasing him about it) but now, after almost a year of 'dating', the tables had turned. His embarrassment had been dulled with familiarity and comfort and her presence was now a welcomed one. It was home and she was glad. She was happy that he no longer treated her or his growing emotions like an enemy that needed to be fought off with fire and explosions.

And yet…

Her eyes flit over to his hands, which were stuffed deep into his pockets and her lips thin into a small frown before his voice calls her back to reality.

"Let's just listen to the Beatles." He stops her hand and she nods dumbly as he leans closer and his warm chest presses against her arm, "that's probably the only artist we'll ever agree on."

"Y-yea," she stammers breathlessly as he selects the song and leans away. Ochako swallows hard at the loss of contact and attempts to pull herself together as the thrum of the acoustic guitar starts off the song. She starts swaying to the familiar beat and the smile returns to her face as the Beatles croon into her ears, serenading her about how she "had that something".

"I want to hold your haaaand," she softly sings the chorus and Bakugou lets out a huff as he watches her bop along to the song. He watches her short, bulbous hair sway with her movements, the twinkle in her eyes as she hums along with the melody and the happy tap of her foot as she matches the rhythm. Everything she does strums at his heartstrings, the flutter of her eyelashes as she looks at him, the ivory pearls of her teeth as she blushes and smiles.

His heart skips to the beat of the song – ("I want to hold your hand," it sings) – and he slowly lifts his hand out of his pocket and reaches out for her hand.

"I want to hold your haaaand." Ochako finishes the final cadence with a happy sigh and he drops his hand as she turns to look at him.

 _Fucking Beatles_ , he thinks, as his heart continues pounding to the rhythm of the song long after it ends.

* * *

"In the end, you didn't get anything," Bakugou grumbles as they walk along the familiar path from the train station and back to UA. He looks at her, eyebrows knit as he frowns. "What was the damn point of even going if you weren't going to buy anything?"

"It was fun, though!" She beams a smile up at him as she walks next to him, "besides, all I really wanted was to spend time with you." Bakugou chortles at this, his face turning red as he mumbles incoherent nonsense and stuffs his hands into his pocket.

" _Don't say disgusting ass shit like that_!" He half-heartedly chastises her and she giggles as the tips of his ears pink with his blush but her smile drops as she watches his hand burrow into his pockets. She is reminded of the refrain of the Beatles song they had listened to and she starts humming to it again. Bakugou casts a brief glance in her direction but remains quiet as she sways beside him.

They walk along the sidewalk as she hums, empty tree branches shivering with the wind and autumn leaves crackling like fire underneath their feet. Autumn burns with summer's goodbye and the wind carries this scent, the smell of deep pine and earthy wood. As she walks with Bakugou, she thinks there's nobody else she'd want to share this moment with. She is filled with immense joy at his quiet company and so she hums and hums and hums and—

"Bakugou-kun," Ochako calls out to him and he grunts a soft "hm?" as his attention remains focused on the road before him. She hesitates, shyly twiddling her fingers before speaking again.

"Can I…hold your hand?" She watches as the color drains from his face and his mouth slacks open. The first thing he does is turn red – "what the fuck?!" – then he starts shaking – "what if we fucking float away?! What if I burn your hand clean off?! WHAT IF SOMEBODY FUCKING _SEES US_?!"

She chuckles at this. "I don't mind," she starts, swaying on the balls of her feet as she looks up at him, "I just…want to try holding your hand." He is silenced by this. His mouth opens and closes as he struggles to refuse and he angrily ruffles the blonde spikes of his hair before relenting with a growl and sticking his hand out.

"Whatever," he is sure to look away from her, "do whatever you want."

Her eyes dart from him and down to his hand. There's a slight tremor in his fingertips and she can tell that nervous sweat is already gathering in his palm. But he's not alone. She's nervous too as she lets out a shaky breath and slides her hand into his. Her fingers enclose around his and she can feel the heat of his nitroglycerin sweat and the rough calluses on his palm forged by fire. He's got a fighter's hand but she likes this. She likes the feel of all of his hard work and effort etched onto his skin.

They continue walking in breathless silence. Ochako slowly dares to intertwine her fingers with his and she looks up at him as he stiffens.

"Is this ok?" She finally inquires, breaking the silence, "do you want to let go?"

He doesn't look at her, clearly nervous out of his mind, but his eyebrows knit with his resolve. "No." Ochako's eyes widen and a burst of butterflies flutter in her stomach as she feels his grip tighten on hers. "It's fine. Whatever."

The autumn wind whistles around them and again, she thinks back to that Beatles song they had listened to side-by-side in that dusty, old music shop.

She squeezes back on his hand and smiles at the memory, humming the rest of the refrain as they walk back.


	18. Prompt 19: Shoulder Kiss

_**A/N:**_ _It baffles me how long ago I wrote all of these drabbles. It's practically been a year (and it's still taking me forever to put them up…). Honestly, reading all these old drabbles has me cringing into the stratosphere, haha._

 _ **Summary:**_ _A collection of kacchako/bakuraka drabbles – Prompt 19: Shoulder Kiss – "Underneath her fingertips, she can still feel the heat of where he had kissed her."_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own Boku no Hero Academia, Horikoshi Kohei does._

* * *

 _~x~_

 _Prompt 18: Shoulder Kiss_

 _~x~_

* * *

This wasn't the first time they had done this. He had touched her before, been inside of her before, but not like this. Not as husband and wife. This was _real_ shit. He was hers and she was his and _fuck_ , he can feel his heart galloping in his chest and _fuck_ , there's sweat gathering in his palms and _fuck, fuck, fuck_ —

"Katsuki?"

Ochako calls out to him. Her eyes are wide and deceptively innocent but he can see that there is a dangerous glint in there, a beckoning glow calling him to her shore. She glistens like diamond sand on the beach and the train of her wedding dress piles around her like untouched snow and she's beautiful, mind-blowingly beautiful and— _ **fuck**_.

Bakugou clears his throat in an attempt to calm his nerves but his apprehension only builds as her gaze watches him from the bed. He throws off his tie and shrugs off his suit jacket to the ground before joining her. The bed creaks with his weight as he prowls toward her until he is hovering above her, his arms caging her from both sides. She looks up at him. Her gaze shimmers with palpable desire as she is splayed out before him, waiting breathlessly for him to make the first move.

The first move. Right. Ok. He'd kissed her before. He could do this part.

Ochako sucks in a sharp breath as his fingertips ghost over the curve of her protruding collarbone. He feels goosebumps ripple across her skin and he figures he must be doing _something_ right as her breathing quickens. He dips his head downward, his nose skimming the line of her neck before he plants a line of heated kisses along the arch of her exposed shoulder. This again triggers the right response from her as she quickly tunnels her fingers through his spiky blonde hair and gasps his name.

She pleads for more but he's already reached his limit. Immediately, Bakugou moves away from her and the bed groans in protest as he goes to sit at the edge. He hears her call out his name and her voice is colored with worry. _Fuck_ , he hadn't meant to panic in front of her but his nerves were practically frayed with anxiousness. He was paralyzed with breathlessness and cold sweat was dribbling down the side of his face at the thought of the expectations she had for him; expectations that he _wanted_ to meet.

Ochako rests a reassuring hand on his hunched shoulders. "Are you nervous?"

His temper flares reflexively and he whirls around to glare at her. "I'm not—!"

"I know." She stops him gently and his anger deflates as she reaches up to cup his cheek, "but we don't…have to do it right now if you don't want to."

Bakugou **hates** that she can see right through him, that she understands him so well. He **hates** that he's so _fucking nervous_ and he **hates** that he's relieved at not having to 'perform' tonight. He lets out a sigh before plopping onto his back. " _Fuck_ ," he groans, angrily ruffling his hair before he feels the weight of her resting on his chest. He lowers his hands and places one on her shoulder and the other by his side before looking down at her.

Bakugou scowls. "What the hell are you smiling at?" This only makes her smile more.

"Oh, I don't know," her fingers run over the fabric of his dress shirt, flattening out the wrinkles, "I guess it's nice to know that you get nervous too."

" _I already said that I'm not fucking nervous_!" He bellows and Ochako giggles before picking up his hand and resting it on her chest.

"I guess it's just me then," she smiles sheepishly and his eyes widen as he feels the nervous flutter of her heartbeat under his fingertips, "you see, I'm pretty nervous too." His eyes lift up to meet with hers and her eyes swim with so much compassion and understanding that it pisses him off.

He scowls and pulls his hand back with an angry "tch".

"How about we just sleep?" She suggests and he nods drowsily in response. This is an idea he can get behind. His eyelids flutter shut and as the minutes go by Ochako watches him fall asleep, her hand measuring the rise and fall of his chest. A blush creeps across her face when she finally thinks he is asleep.

Perhaps it was a good thing they hadn't gone all the way tonight. His every touch was fire on her skin and if they had gone any further she doesn't know what would have become of her.

She places a hand on her shoulder and her blush grows.

Underneath her fingertips, she can still feel the heat of where he had kissed her.


	19. Prompt 20: Back of the Hand Kiss

_**A/N:**_ _I remember really liking this one. Hope you guys like it too!_

 _ **Summary:**_ _A collection of kacchako/bakuraka drabbles – Prompt 20: Back of the Hand Kiss – "In their 65 years together, he has never been able to say no to her. Him, Bakugou Katsuki, was wrapped around her little finger for practically as long as he had been alive. And he wouldn't have it any other way."_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own Boku no Hero Academia, Horikoshi Kohei does._

* * *

 _~x~_

 _Prompt 20: Back of the Hand Kiss_

 _~x~_

* * *

80 years old is etched in her skin. Bakugou can feel it in the leathery wrinkles of her hand and in the protruding bones of her fingertips as he laces his fingers with hers. It is written in the sagging lines of her face and painted in the silver silk of her short hair but he thinks that she is still as beautiful as the first day they met; if not moreso.

He sits by her side, his hand gently clasping hers, as she laid tucked in bed. Ochako regards him with quiet warmth and affection and as he meets her gaze he thinks that her eyes are like a kaleidoscope, brimming with refracted fragments of light and colorful memories. It is amazing that in all their years together, despite the perils of their profession, she had never grown bitter or jaded. Instead, her eyes always shone and reflected the beauty she saw in the world.

"I think, overall, people are good," she had told him one day and, honestly, he had thought that was the second most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard (the first being the idiotic idea of ranking Midoriya as the number one hero). He had met and pummeled some nasty sons of bitches who he was sure didn't possess a modicum of inner goodness, but he would never say this and instead, she would continue; her gaze dreamy and her cheeks tinted with a rosy pink.

"It's just that sometimes a person's inner goodness may be hidden – _muffled_ – but that doesn't mean it's not there. You just have to dig deep to search for it. The effort to believe in and find the best in someone; _I think that's love_."

When she would say this, he often wondered if she was talking about him.

"Kacchan." He looks up as she calls to him. Age had not spared her voice, which was now gravelly and rough as sandpaper, but it still possessed the elderly warmth and wisdom reminiscent of 60 years old. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing." He lifts their intertwined hands and presses his lips against the back of her hand as assurance. He hears her giggle in response.

"Kacchan," she teases and her voice twinkles with the mirth of 40 years old, "I'm _surprised_."

His heart skips with the fervor of 30 years old as she smiles at him and he cannot help the heated blush creeping on his wrinkled cheeks. He adjusts his glasses in an attempt to maintain his composure (apparently terrible eyesight was the only thing he had inherited from his father).

"I just did it because I know it's the kind of shit you like." Her eyebrows lift in mild amusement as she chuckles at this.

"It is," Ochako admits shyly. He feels her hand shake as she struggles to grasp tighter to his hand.

"Katsuki…can you," she is interrupted by a fit of coughs, "can you do it again?"

In their 65 years together, he has never been able to say no to her. Him, Bakugou Katsuki, was wrapped around her little finger for practically as long as he had been alive.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

He nods wordlessly before craning is head down and sealing a chaste kiss onto the back of her hand again. Bakugou breathes in deeply and the sweetness of her perfume assails his nostrils, taking him back to the sun-kissed days of their 20's. Her scent beckons him and he kisses her hand again, and again, and again, until suddenly, he stops.

He presses his forehead against her hand and he hunches his trembling shoulders as he tries to suppress the broken sobs bubbling in his throat.

"Bakugou-kun?"

Tears burn in the back of his eyes at the youthfulness in her voice. She sounds just like 18 and it kills him.

" _I love you_ ," he blurts out with a harsh whisper and he lifts up his eyes to look at her before it is too late.

Realization dawns in her eyes and for a moment she stares at him in wide-eyed lucidity but then she blinks and her eyes are 15 again and she's beaming at him.

"Hi, sir!"

His heart lurches into his throat and he can't remember how to breathe.

"I'm sorry, I must've gotten lost. Could you help me? You see, today is my first day at UA and I can't be late."


	20. Prompt 21: Forehead Kiss

_**A/N:**_ _I really wanted to draw fanart for this one but I never did._

 _ **Summary:**_ _A collection of kacchako/bakuraka drabbles – Prompt 21: Forehead Kiss – "What was this? What were they? What was happening between them and why did it burn like the fire of morning's daybreak and why did it ache like nighttime's goodbye?"_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own Boku no Hero Academia, Horikoshi Kohei does._

* * *

 _~x~_

 _Prompt 21: Forehead Kiss_

 _~x~_

* * *

Ochako loved mornings, especially the prelude to it: when the world was silent and its people still fast asleep and the star-kissed night sky teetered on the cusp of dawn.

Ochako loved mornings and she also loved music and often she would think that the two things were one and the same.

So, with her acoustic guitar strapped to her back, Ochako would set out every morning and head for the school courtyard and today was no different.

Today, she sits on the grassy expanse of the courtyard and croons soft lullabies to the infinite universe. Her guitar hums along with soft, soothing chords as the deep ultramarine of the night sky melts away with the golden rays of the morning sun. She heralds the daybreak with song and prose as she strums her guitar and sings a gentle farewell to the disappearing constellations.

It is in these moments that she feels most alive; her singing voice ringing as clear as the morning dewdrops and each note of her guitar dripping with the pastel pink and yellow's of sunrise. She is never alone - the sky answers her with the ebb and flow of colors across the sky - and when she is half-way through her performance, she is always joined by her one-man audience.

As if on cue, she hears the sound of approaching footsteps and rustling of grass. Without looking she already knows who it is and her suspicions are confirmed as Bakugou quietly plops down next to her.

No words are exchanged between them as she forges on with her song. This had become part of their routine. He would find her after what she presumed was his morning workout and would silently listen as she lifted her voice to the heavens.

She didn't know if he particularly enjoyed her music or if he was just the poor victim of a routine he had never anticipated falling into, but every morning she sat in the grassy courtyard and she would sing her song and he would come and listen. She never asked about it and he never offered to say anything more and so, through habit and unspoken promises, their morning routine was born.

Ochako strums the final cadence as she finishes her song and lets out a pleased sigh as the chirping birds pick up where she leaves off.

"Bakugou-kun," she turns to face him, ready to start heading back to the dorms but stops as she notices that he's fallen asleep beside her. A smile plays on her lips and her heart leaps in her chest at the sight him splayed out on his side. There is a childlike innocence to his expression and the usual angry lines of his face are smoothed out with sleep. He is uncharacteristically vulnerable and her heart skips at the thought that she may be the only person aware of this rare side to him.

She sets her guitar down on the opposite side and slowly lies down on the ground beside him. She watches the steady rise and fall of his shoulders and the golden daylight spill across the hills of his muscles. Hesitantly, she reaches for him and she is careful to avoid touching him with all five fingers as she plays with the ash-blonde locks of his hair. His hair is stiff and bristly to the touch, reminiscent of his firecracker personality, and she brushes his hair aside to reveal the smooth plane of his forehead.

Her breath catches in her throat as he stirs and his eyebrows knit irritably. She starts singing again and his eyebrows relax as the lullaby of her voice lulls him back into his dreams. The warmth of his breath caresses her rosy cheeks as she curls closer into him; their lips mere centimeters apart and their chests brushing with each shared breath. She is close enough to smell the sweaty aftermath of his morning workout but she finds that the scent is not entirely unpleasant. He smells like fire and smoke, like gunpowder and nitroglycerin and the hazy aftermath of the autumn fireworks back in her hometown. He smells like…home.

Home.

She realizes that there is an uncanny sense of familiarity as she lies beside him, as if this is where she had always been and where she was always meant to remain. In his arms. In his embrace. Her and him. Together…

Ochako stops singing.

The crisp mist of the morning air fills her with courage as she cranes upward to press her lips to his forehead. Her heart squeezes with desire as she scrunches her eyes shut and lets his scent sweep into her lungs before she pulls away and is greeted with the red of his pupils.

"Hey," she whispers breathlessly in surprise and blushes as his crimson gaze burns into her eyes. There is none of the anger or rage that is characteristic in his gaze; only bemused curiosity and the quiet searching for answers to unspoken questions. What was this? What were they? What was happening between them and why did it burn like the fire of morning's daybreak and why did it ache like nighttime's goodbye?

She realizes, as they stare into each other's eyes, that this was not _routine_. This was their dawn: the promise of fresh beginnings and the start of something new but terrifying. She watches as his eyes widen with silent shock at this shared realization. The hump of his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard and she thinks that he's just as (if not more) nervous as she is.

His eyes narrow and his nostrils flare as he takes in a deep, shaky breath and exhales.

"Hey." Bakugou finally answers her and the low timbre of his rough voice sends electricity crackling through her veins and excited goosebumps giggling down her spine.

Ochako loved mornings and she loved music.

But today, she realizes that she loved the sound of his voice more than any morning song.


	21. Prompt 22: Collarbone Kiss

_**A/N:**_ _I'm doing it guys. Today's the day I update Fragile so that it's up-to-date with my fics on tumblr. Anyway, this drabble is favorite of mine. Prepare yourselves for much heartache. Please read and review!_

 _ **Summary:**_ _"_ _Does that nerd kiss you like this? Does he love you like this? Does he love you like_ ** _me?"_**

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own Boku no Hero Academia, Kohei Horikoshi does._

* * *

Bakugou hadn't meant to overhear them but unfortunately, he had.

He had been heading for the school rooftop to eat lunch in peaceful solitude when he had opened the door and had been greeted by the sound of two people making out with breathless fervor.

He had let out an angry "tch", pissed that he wouldn't be able to eat lunch where he wanted just because two shitfaces were too horny for each other to wait until after school. Just when he was about to close the door and head back down, he had overheard the pair's hushed whispers.

"I…zuku…"

"Uraraka…san…"

Bakugou hears Ochako giggle – the same way she used to giggle at him – and suddenly, he's frozen in place with his hand stuck to the doorknob as his heart thunders painfully at the memory.

"I keep telling you to just call me Ochako." She had said similar words to him before too; had told him with bated breath to just call her Ochako as his fingers had weaved through her short, brown hair.

And with a kiss he had told her to just call him Katsuki.

"Okay," he hears Midoriya relent with an embarrassed chuckle and fire licks angrily in Bakugou's veins at the thought of the fucking nerd brazenly calling her by her first name.

His mind rings hollow and empty as he's overcome with the flames of white-hot rage and jealousy burning in the marrow of his bones. His ears are assaulted with the sound of heated breaths and the rushed meeting of lips as they resume kissing. Each time Ochako gasps "Izuku" and Midoriya whispers "Ochako" he feels his heart twist painfully with endless rage and heartbreak and it takes everything he has to hold back from pummeling the green-haired shitstain to a pulp.

"Yo, Bakugou! You up there?"

He's startled back to reality at Kirishima's voice echoing in the stairwell and he looks down to notice the tendrils of grey smoke trailing from the doorknob as it burns bright red in his furious grasp.

He lets go of the doorknob and listens again. The sound of the pair moaning into each other's mouth assures him that they hadn't heard Kirishima's call and Bakugou stomps down the stairs before they can catch him eavesdropping.

Bakugou hadn't meant to overhear them but unfortunately, he had.

And now, as minature explosions crackle angrily in his clenched fists, all he can think of is the way Ochako had gleefully whispered, "Izuku" over and over and over again…

~x~

"We need to talk." Ochako approaches him at the end of the school day as the rest of their classmates file out of the classroom and into the hallway.

"About what?" He can't hold back the biting tone in his voice as he stands to his feet and hefts his schoolbag onto his shoulder. He glowers down at her and she crosses her arms in defiance. She had never been one to be intimidated by him. "About how you were sucking that fucking nerd's face?"

"Bakugou-kun!" Her cheeks blaze bright red as she quickly looks around the classroom to make sure that nobody was listening.

"Everybody's gone, round- face." He freezes at his old nickname for her. It opens old wounds and the flash of nostalgia in her eyes as she looks up at him tells him that she feels the same.

"Anyway, don't waste your time worrying," he finds his voice again with a scowl, "I couldn't give two shits about who you're making out with and I don't care enough to go telling others about it either."

"I know you wouldn't," she assures him with a gentle smile and he lets out a curt "tch" as he turns his head to look away from her.

"How'd you know it was me, anyway?"

"I can tell those singe marks from anywhere," she teases. "Honestly, you might as well have written, "Katsuki was here"—."

She trails off as she unconsciously calls him by his first name and both their cheeks burn red at the shared realization. A heavy silence descends upon them, measured out by the steady ticking of the wall clock, before Bakugou drudges up the courage to break the silence.

"Do you love him?" His hands clench into fists as he tries to calm the nervous hammering of his heart against his ribs.

Her blush grows at the abrupt question. "Deku-kun's my best friend."

He frowns. This isn't the answer he wants.

"Yea, but do you fucking _love_ him?"

 _Like you did me._

"I…I don't know yet."

"Then…what about me?"

She squares her shoulders and takes in a deep breath as if preparing herself for what she was going to say next.

"I _did_."

He takes a step toward her and she takes a step back.

"So…more than fucking Deku?"

"Katsuki," his first name slips out again from habit, "that's…that's not a fair question. You know that…"

There's another step forward for him and another step back for her.

"Just fucking…tell me."

Ochako lets out a shaky breath as she feels her back press against the wall and he hovers above her. They're so close now. She hadn't been this close to him since before he'd broken up with her and now that he was a mere arms-length away she can feel the rush of all the emotions he used to make her feel: the pain, the happiness, the hurt, the joy and most of all…

Her eyes search his before she lets out a breathless sigh.

…Most of all, the desire.

"You know that," her words are measured and careful as she picks up from where he had interrupted her and tries to hide the flutter in her voice, "that I loved you more than anything."

"Then come back to me."

Her eyes widen as she feels the familiar pressure of his hands at her hips. He slowly dips his head into the crook of her neck, his nose nuzzling the column of her neck as he takes in a deep breath. Her nostalgic fragrance of white peaches takes him back to a time when she was his and he was hers. It takes him back to the time when it was his hands – and not that fucking nerd's – that would roam across the planes of her body, when it was his kisses that would make her unfurl with breathless delight.

He pulls closer to her – their chests brushing with each heavy breath – and he hears her suck in a sharp breath as their fingertips brush.

"Katsu….Bakugou-kun…" She opts for his last name in a futile attempt to create distance between them but her fingers intertwine with his against her better reason. She knows where this was going and knows that it doesn't mean anything good for either of them but her body betrays her. " _You're so…you're so selfish_ …"

"Just come back to me," he repeats and his wet lips press into the hollow of her collarbone. He smirks as her mouth parts with a surprised gasp and she surges into him. He knows what she likes and remembers that kisses on her neck or her collar drove her mad with want. Instinctively, she rolls her head back as he threads his fingers through the chestnut tufts of her hair and his lips follow the line of her collarbone.

" _Does that fucking nerd kiss you like this_?" She shudders at the heat of his breath fanning over her as his lips burn angry, red constellations into her porcelain skin. " _Does he touch you like this_?" He pushes her further against the classroom wall and her pleased whimpers echo in the empty classroom as his teeth nip at her collarbone. " _Does he love you like this? Does he love you like_ ** _me_**?"

Somehow, the last part of his words brings her reeling back to reality and before he can register what's happening Ochako's shoved him away and his left cheek is greeted with the resounding smack of her palm.

" _You never loved me_!" He hears her hiss as he presses a hand to his burning cheek.

Bakugou looks up and opens his mouth to release a string of his usual profanities but is stunned silent by her tortured expression. The heated pain throbbing in his cheek is no comparison to the agony of watching her face scrunch up with suppressed sobs as fat teardrops roll down her pink, round cheeks.

"I hate you," she whispers in a voice shredded with pain as she drops her hand in muted shame and disappointment in herself. She can't believe that he had snuck through her defenses again; that his kiss and his touch were still enough to steal her breath away. She hates him, she hates what he does to her but most of all she hates herself for falling for him every time.

Ochako sees the way her words cut into him in the flashes of pain and anger reflected in the crimson of his eyes but she was much too exhausted to care. He had been the one to let her go before and now she has to do the same.

And so with hot tears spilling down her cheeks, chest heaving and weak, shuddering breaths, she lets him go.

"Bakugou-kun," she hiccups through her sobs, " _I hate you more than anything_."


	22. Prompt 23: Spine Kiss

_**A/N:**_ _Please read and review!_

 _ **Summary:**_ _"_ _He'd only dreamed of honor and glory but somehow Ochako – the girl who commanded meteor showers and wove constellations with the wave of her hands – had thundered into his life like a comet and had made herself at home in his heart._ _"_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own Boku no Hero Academia, Kohei Horikoshi does._

* * *

The air is filled with the clinking of chopsticks against bowls as Bakugou and Ochako quietly eat their dinner. A comfortable silence, broken only by the dull hum of the television, hangs in the air as the duo quietly sit on opposite ends of the square dining table with Bakugou stubbornly facing his meal and Ochako looking up every now and then to glance at the news.

" _Renowned hero Chrysalis was awarded today for her 40 years of service_ ," the television hums with the even voice of the newscaster as the screen cuts to show scenes from the award ceremony, " _and, much to everyone's surprise, she also announced her intentions to retire this year. Here's Suda-san with more on the story_."

"Retire already?" Ochako freezes in disbelief, her chopsticks resting on the plump of her bottom lip, "I only just met with her a couple months ago."

"The fuck do you mean 'already'? The hag's old as shit." Bakugou comments without so much as a glance at the television. He continues shoveling food into his mouth and ignores his wife's disapproving glance. "It's about time she fucking retired."

"But I thought she'd work a bit longer though," Ochako muses sadly as she turns away from the television. "I felt I could still learn a lot from her, y'know? But then again," her face brightens with a smile as she lets her accent slip out, "she _has_ been active for a long time. It's probably best she finally gets to rest, don'tcha think?"

"Fuck if I know," Bakugou shrugs, "I don't plan on retiring like some punk ass bitch."

Ochako raises an incredulous brow. "I have a feeling you won't be saying that when _you're_ 65," she challenges with a shake of her head, the chestnut tufts of her bulbous hair swaying with her motions. "Oh! Didn't you mention your office wanted you to hold a conference or fan meeting of some sort too?"

"Some useless shit like that," he grumbles, eyebrows furrowing in displeasure at the memory.

"I think it sounds like fun! It's a great chance to meet with your fans!" Her face lights up and Bakugou huffs in disagreement. "Fun" was the last word he'd use to describe being surrounded by the press and a bunch of other random strangers.

"I hate all of this fucking PR garbage," he mutters heatedly with narrowed eyes.

"Well, it's part of the job." Ochako didn't mind the PR side of being a hero. She was happy as long as she was making enough to support her parents who had finally retired to the quiet countryside.

"Part of what job? I'm a hero not a fucking pop star."

Ochako chuckles at this, her cheeks pinking with her laughter before she abruptly stops. "Mhm!" Her eyes widen and sparkle in pleasant surprise as she swallows a mouthful of salmon. "This salmon you made is amazing!"

Bakugou leans back into his seat in quiet embarrassment at the compliment and awkwardly picks at the remaining grains of rice in his nearly empty bowl. "Just…remember to do the fucking dishes," he mumbles, avoiding her gaze as she grins slyly at him.

"Come on. We can't let the dishes slide?" She pleads playfully. "Just for today?"

He looks up from his bowl and frowns. "I'll fucking murder you."

Ochako bursts into laughter and Bakugou looks away, unsure of just what was so funny but still strangely pleased that he was the reason for the bright smile stretched across her face.

"I'm just kidding," she relents airily, her apple cheeks glowing red as her smile grows, "Of course, I'll do the dishes. Oh! By the way did you hear—?"

Bakugou was sure he hadn't heard whatever news she was about to share but he could tell by the inflection in her voice that he was about to find out. Having already finished his meal, he places his chopsticks down and listens as she talks in between bites of her food. She weaves together her grand tales of the day while he interjects with comments often full of unnecessarily foul and crude language.

"But I can't believe he would just quit like that." Ochako finishes her story in genuine, wide-eyed disbelief as she looked to Bakugou for reciprocation.

"Fucker needed to leave anyway."

"Katsuki!"

And then she would laugh or chastise his crass language and he would scoff and she'd shake her head disapprovingly before moving on to the next important topic.

This was their routine, this was their marriage and their life and – as they both stood up from their seats and Ochako collected their plates to carry to the kitchen – Bakugou wonders just how they managed to make it to this point. He had never imagined this kind of life for himself, a life where he'd have a girlfriend, a fiancée, or a wife. He'd only dreamed of honor and glory but somehow Ochako – the girl who commanded meteor showers and wove constellations with the wave of her hands – had thundered into his life like a comet and had made herself at home in his heart.

He switches off the TV and the clatter of dishes and running water follows him as he heads off to get ready for bed. In between washing his face and brushing his teeth, he can hear her humming softly from the kitchen and, as he turns off the bedroom light and crawls into bed, he realizes that he can't imagine a better life than this one.

~x~

"I really think you should try going to that conference."

Bakugou feels the rush of cool air as Ochako pulls up the sheets and slides into bed next to him, the mattress shifting and groaning with her added weight. Her hair tickles his bare chest as she wraps an arm around him and pulls herself closer to him.

"What if I come with you?" She offers. "I can talk with my office and see if—."

"That doesn't change the fact that I still don't wanna fucking go," he interrupts, closing his eyes and hoping she'd just drop the damn topic and go to sleep. But he begrudgingly realizes that would be asking for too much as she presses the subject.

"Why not?" She asks. "It'd be nice. I could do most of the talking if you want and all you'd have to do is stand there and look _inspiring_."

He huffs in disdain at the word. " _Inspiring_? _To who_?"

"To everyone!" She sounds almost personally offended and Bakugou looks down at her as he feels the pressure of her fingertips on his jaw, directing his crimson gaze to meet with her eyes. "You're inspiring, Katsuki! To the people," Ochako stresses, "and to _me_."

The weight of her faith in him rattles his bones and shakes him to his core. His brows scrunch together into his characteristic glare before he pulls away and turns his back towards her in a last-ditch effort to hide his vulnerability.

"Whatever," he barks out in a voice determined to change the subject but also let her know just how reluctant he still was, "I'll fucking go. _Shit_."

Despite the heavy silence that follows he can tell that she wasn't done speaking. There was something on her mind; the gravity of her unspoken words hung heavy in the air and draped over him with its haunting weight. He lets out a breath as she breaks the silence and moves closer, seemingly prepared to talk.

"People look up to you, y'know."

He feels the flat of her palm run across his arm and _fuck_ , he really doesn't want to talk about this now. _Why can't she just fucking let it go_?

"I know you think differently but…I don't think you're a hero just because you always win."

Well, that was just simply _not_ true and Bakugou opens his mouth to disagree with her but is silenced by the wet heat of her lips at the back of his neck. He feels the caress of her wandering hand glide over the hill of his shoulder and across the muscles of his arms, melting away his stress and the tension in his muscles, before finally clasping his hand in hers.

"You're a hero who inspires others." She whispers as her lips gently trace the line of his naked spine. Bakugou lets out a shaky breath and closes his eyes, focusing instead on the familiar feeling of her lips, the flutter of her long eyelashes against his skin and the heat of her hand in his. The magic of her kiss enchants him, casting him under her siren spell and lulling him into a silent, obedient stupor. This wasn't the sort of kiss that set his blood on fire or blinded him with want. This kiss didn't ask or demand anything, it only sought to soothe and comfort.

"You're a hero that makes them aspire to be great, to be the best they can be." He feels her lips buzz with a chuckle, "and you're a surprisingly good husband too."

This snaps him out of his trance. "The fuck do you mean by ' _surprisingly_ '?!"

She giggles into the dip of his back before he abruptly turns on his side to face her again, the sheets rustling and the bed creaking with his movements. He looks down at her as she looks up at him, ribbons of silver moonbeams swimming in her eyes along with the earnest faith and love she has for him and he didn't understand _why_ and he didn't understand _how_ the two of them worked together but they just _did_ and really, that was all he needed.

"Come here." He holds up his arm in invitation and Ochako pulls herself back up to settle in his embrace as his fingertips float over the curve of her round cheeks.

"I don't know where you come up with this shit, roundface."

She smiles and opens her mouth to answer, the pearls of her teeth bright with the moonlight, before she is silenced by the heat of his lips on hers and by the whisper of his fingers threading through her short hair.

Her eyelids flutter shut as her heart leaps and sings in her chest. If only he'd waited just a little bit longer she could've told him just how he had inspired her too. How they were two galaxies, colliding and fizzing and curling with the heat of a supernova, and how he'd taught her how to _burn,_ and _burn,_ and _burn_.


	23. Prompt 24: Pelvic Bone Kiss

_**A/N:**_ _I wrote this back when Mystic Messenger was really popular (feels so long ago…). This marks the end of the "Kiss" requests! Next up will be the location requests then will be the "A Softer World" requests. Please read and review! I appreciate each and every one!_

 _ **Summary:**_ _"That was pay-back," she teases, shooting him a toothy grin, "for making fun of my game."_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own Boku no Hero Academia, Kohei Horikoshi does._

* * *

"Katsuki?"

Bakugou spares a glance down at Ochako, who is strewn across his lap with her phone in hand, before turning his attention back to his own phone.

"What?"

"Which route should I pick for my game?"

"Route?" He lets out a snort. "Is this one of your shitty 2D dating games?"

"It's a _fun_ game!" She defends with a blush before looking back at the screen, "but I just need a _walkthrough_ to help me out a little bit."

"You're asking the wrong fucking person, round-face."

Her cheeks redden more at his nickname for her before she turns off her phone and lays it aside.

"Fine." Ochako turns onto her side and closes her eyes, letting his scent wash over him. He smells of clean laundry and soap after having scrubbed off the sweat and grime of a hard day's training. His torso is bare and she idly reaches up at him, tracing the lines of his abs with her fingertips and skimming around his belly button before reaching the hem of his shorts.

"Uraraka…" Her name tumbles from his lips with a low growl and his voice rumbles with both anticipation and surprise. She watches the quiver of his muscles as he breathes in and out.

"Hm?" She leans closer to him, her warm breath fanning over the v-shaped line of his lower abdominal muscles as she tugs at the hem of his shorts. A smile plays on her lips as she hears him suck in a sharp breath.

" _What the fuck are you doing_?"

"Nothing," she hums in a sing-song voice. Her lips ghost over the apex of his pelvic bone before she plants a soft kiss. One hand pulls at the hem of his shorts, exposing more and more of his skin, as her other hand palms over his side muscles.

" _Uraraka_." His voice is squeezed with muffled impatience and Ochako can feel the increase in his breathing as her lips follow the line of his pelvis. She shushes him before looking up at him through the flutter of her eyelashes.

" _Katsuki_." She plants another wet kiss on the opposite point of his pelvic bone and watches the flush in his cheeks as his eyebrows further knit together.

" _Katsuki_ …"

Suddenly, the elastic waistband slips from her fingers and slaps against his waist with a sharp snap. Bakugou blinks at her in wide-eyed confusion as she leans away with a smirk.

"That was pay-back," she teases, shooting him a toothy grin, "for making fun of my game."

His cheeks crimson with embarrassment.

"Uraraka!"

"Wha—ahhhh!" She whines and drops her phone as he pinches at her red cheeks.

"What was that about your stupid ass game?!" He smirks at her and tugs at her cheeks, earning another string of whining.

"I'm sorry!" But she betrays herself as she starts to laugh. "Katsuki!" Her voice breaks with more laughter. "Let go!"

"Sorry's not good enough, round-face!" She kicks and giggles in his lap as she struggles to pull out of his grasp and his smirk widens in response. In all of their commotion, his phone lays forgotten on the floor, face-up and lit with the last thing he had searched for her: "otome game walkthrough".


	24. Prompt 25: Police Station

_**A**_ _/ **N:** This was written in response to a Location Drabble Prompt. This one was for the Police Station prompt on tumblr (Police Station: Your character catches mine doing something they shouldn't). The fluffiness level of this one is off the charts. Please read and review!_

 _ **Summary:**_ _"It starts off with feigned disinterest, eyes half-lidded and lips pulled down into a deep-set frown before he feels that first kick and right then, in a rush of heat and emotions, it's like his world begins again."_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own Boku no Hero Academia, Kohei Horikoshi does. Also, the drabble prompt does not belong to me either._

* * *

~x~

 _Prompt 25: Police Station_

~x~

* * *

"The fuck are you doing in the dark?"

Ochako jumps and a chill giggles down her spine as Bakugou's deep voice, thick and groggy with sleep, comes up from behind her. Suddenly, the kitchen is awash with light as he flips on the switch and Ochako curls tighter into herself, determined not to face him.

"N-nothing," she trips over her words. Her shoulders hunch and she stiffens in her seat as she struggles to keep her back turned to him, "I-I thought you were asleep. How'd you figure out that I was here?"

Bakugou scoffs at the question. "Cause you weren't there to hog the damn sheets," he murmurs with a yawn but cocks an eyebrow at her strange behavior. Even half-asleep he could tell she was acting weird as fuck. The real question was: it was currently 2:30AM at night and did he really want to spend the time to ask and find out why?

"I do _not_ hog the sheets!" She protests and whirls around to face him, cheeks red and ballooned with an angry pout. He snorts at this.

"Believe whatever the fuck you want," he says before freezing in place and narrowing his eyes at her. Ochako fidgets awkwardly underneath the heat of his red-eyed glare. She tries to remind herself to act calm—to act _natural_ —and she hopes to high heavens that he doesn't—

"What the hell's that white shit on your lip?"

—notice…

She thinks with an inner groan that her husband was too observant for his own good.

"Nothing." She answers all too quickly before using her back hand to wipe away said 'white shit'.

"Uraraka," his eyes light up with faint recognition, " _I fucking swear if it's ice cream again_ — _!_ "

"It's not!" She protests wholeheartedly before sliding her gaze away and biting at her bottom lip, "or…y'know…it might… _not_ …be…"

"Uraraka! You _finished_ a carton _yesterday_!"

"Ok, listen! I can—I can explain…!"

"Fucking _try me_!" He challenges, closing the distance between them with large, angry strides and roughly snatching the half-eaten carton of ice cream from her lap.

"It's—!" She starts out strong, ready to defend her secret midnight snack, before she flounders, "…it's…it's just so delicious…"

"That's not a _fucking_ explanation, roundface!"

Her shoulders slump as she gives in and he lets out an unimpressed "tch" at her weak excuse. "You know you're not supposed to eat this shit because of the— _fucking hell_!" He lifts his head with a snap and looks at her in heated disbelief. "You basically demolished the whole damn thing!"

This revelation brings out some sort of misguided pride in her and she puffs out her chest. "Yea," she boasts, her pink cheeks brightening even more, "I guess I _did_." She swipes her tongue across her bottom lip to lick away the remnants of ice cream before giggling in self-satisfaction.

"Don't look so fucking smug, roundface. I'm sure you had plenty of help." Bakugou glances pointedly at her very pregnant stomach before pinching at her cheeks and earning a drawn-out whine to "stooooooop". He eventually lets go and Ochako rubs at her sore cheeks before her lips pull into a sly grin.

"You can have some too," she eggs him on, a mischievous glint twinkling in her eyes. Ochako holds the spoon up towards him and he scowls at the invitation.

"Get that shit away from me," he pushes her hand away with and shoots her a glare, "I'm not encouraging this fuckery."

"Oh, come on," she thrusts the spoon towards him again, eyes wide and pleading, "I even saved you the cookie dough bits that you like."

This gets his attention. There's a flash of muted interest in his red eyes as he looks to the spoon and then to the carton of ice cream, quietly weighing the price of this rare indulgence. Ochako watches as he runs a hand across his bare chest and stomach, contemplating his choices, before he accepts with a rough, "fine…".

She nods and offers happily, "I'll get it for you."

"I don't need you doing shit for me," he corrects her but obediently watches and waits as she scoops out a healthy helping of cookie dough. She makes a show of pretending to hand it to him and his hand reaches out in response before she doubles back and swiftly pops the spoon into her mouth.

"Mhm!" She hums in bright satisfaction, ignoring Bakugou's shell-shocked and wide-eyed gaze, before pulling the spoon out from her mouth with a pop and smiling. "Delicious!"

"Uraraka!" Bakugou comes back to his senses with a boiling rage. "You motherfu—!"

"Ah!" She interrupts him mid-tantrum, eyes twinkling in excitement as she again plows her spoon into the mound of ice cream, "you're too slow!" Before he can get a word in she quickly excavates another spoonful of cookie dough and pops it into her mouth with a teasing grin.

"Oh!" She stops and rests a hand on her bulging stomach as she feels an appreciative kick, "looks like she likes ice cream too!"

Ochako gingerly takes Bakugou's hand in hers and places it over her stomach, expectantly watching as his reaction plays out like a movie across his face. It starts off with feigned disinterest, eyes half-lidded and lips pulled down into a deep-set frown before he feels that first kick and right then, in a rush of heat and emotions, it's like his world begins again. Like the unfurling of a springtime flower, like the sweeping big bang heat of the newborn universe blossoming from the ice-cold void of nothingness; warm and raw wonder blooms across his face with his arched eyebrows, wide moon eyes and thin lips parted with a silent gasp of breathless awe.

"That's her," he murmurs breathlessly and looks into Ochako's eyes. His own wide eyes brim with echoes of heart-thumping, mind-boggling, breath-taking love as it pounds in time with the blood in his veins. Ochako gulps—pleasantly taken aback by this unfiltered Bakugou—and nods, her bulbous hair swaying with her movements.

"Yea," her apple cheeks glow pink with her growing smile, "that's her."

Bakugou casts another shell-shocked glance at her rotund stomach, his palm unconsciously caressing the curvature, before snapping back to reality and abruptly pulling his hand back.

"Katsuko gets that from you," he mumbles in an attempt to pull himself together and save face but there is a remaining hint of layered pride and joy in his voice and Ochako can pick out the pleased upward curve of his lips. A giddy heat wells up inside of her along with the rush of euphoria and the burn of happy tears in the back of her eyes.

"Yea," she agrees with a watery smile, "yea she does."

A pause and then…

"And stop that…we're not naming her Katsuko…"


End file.
